


Paradise City (Please Take Me Home)

by Mytay



Series: Trouble's Making Everything All Right [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: And Those Gun Holsters, Angst, Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Nudity, Rocking Those Leather Pants, Space Cowboys - Freeform, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 05:15:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10734870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mytay/pseuds/Mytay
Summary: “Not this time,” Lance snapped, harsh and determined. “She’s not going to screw us over on a whim. We’re going to break into that damn vault and she’s gonna pay us for every job we couldn’t get because of her stupid game. And then we’re going to get off this damn planet. Maybe we’ll go to Jacomir and give them some of their own back.” Lance’s blue eyes gleamed with danger.Keith hadn’t realized he’d tensed up in the face of that low, threatening voice, the uncompromising violence in it, until he felt his muscles loosening at its retreat. It happened now and again that it was Lance who needed to be pulled back from the brink. But he was quick to smile, to shrink down and laugh off their worry.Keith tried not to worry, and he actually succeeded most of the time — as long as Lance kept coming back …It's been ten and a half months on the nameless planet of cowboys and crooks. Lance and Keith are back in a tight spot, low on funds. But now they know how to play this — they’re going to perform one of their most epic heists yet, and they will finally have the money needed to leave this place once and for all.





	Paradise City (Please Take Me Home)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Čeština available: [Město zázraků (prosím, vezmi mě domů)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13126611) by [Enikawa_Moriko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enikawa_Moriko/pseuds/Enikawa_Moriko)



> Title taken from [_Paradise City_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rbm6GXllBiw) by Guns ‘N Roses.
> 
> Please check out **thidwicktails** 's amazing [drawing of Yathir](http://thidwicktails.tumblr.com/post/160208359234/a-polished-version-of-yathir-for-thisgirlhastales), as it is pretty much ripped directly from my brain :) 
> 
> A big thank you to the fantastic **julietlovestory, axel-grinatthegrimmestoftimes,** and **Brame** for suggestions I used in this part! *hugs*
> 
> And another bout of thanks goes out to [**reader115**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Reader115), for being a freaking huge help in checking over this heist, and for being just an overall awesome person who gave me much needed encouragement when I was so sure this story wasn't good enough. *all the hugs*

 

******

 “Hm, I think you’re going to _miss_ , Lance,” Keith whispered, and then he pressed a tender kiss onto the sensitive skin below his ear.

 

Lance shivered. “You. Horrible. Jackass.” He readjusted his hold on his rifle — a rifle they’d _liberated_ from Bruil a long while back, as compensation for the asshole not paying them for a job well done. Also, Keith may or may not have pinned Bruil to his desk. By way of a knife. Through his hand. And Lance might have shot him. But only once, and in the shoulder. 

 

Bruil had certainly never crossed them again after that. He’d even hired them for a few jobs here and there — and he always paid them _exactly_ what they were owed afterwards.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, is this _distracting_ you?” Keith breathed out, a bare inch from Lance’s skin. His body was splayed out next to Lance’s on the roof, as they both were keeping an eye on the entrance to Gunthra’s warehouse. 

 

“Yes,” Lance said harshly, though he made no move to pull away from Keith, even as he inched a leg over Lance’s back, pulling himself in closer. “And I said I was sorry. So please stop.”

 

“Yeah, _sorry_ is not going to make up for Brisha, Wesdru, Grisner _and_ his wife, and freaking _Caspor_ seeing me close to—”

 

“You know, if you were _really_ angry, I wouldn’t have gotten laid last night.” Lance flicked his gaze to the side, looking distinctly smug for a moment before his mask of concentration went up again. “And I ended up winning the pot, so no worries, right? We got the money, and you got some action under the table. Really, nobody lost.”

 

“ _Action_?” Keith growled. “You used your _foot_.”

 

“Whatever,” Lance said dismissively, but with a slight hitch in his breath as Keith shifted his body. “I was _amazing_. I won the game, _without cheating_ , and got my fiancé off at the same time.”

 

“Um, I think _trying_ to get your fiancé off counts as cheating since I was playing too, you ass.” Keith felt a little vindicated by the red flush spreading across Lance’s face as Keith’s hand inched further down his back, as his lips brushed against beautiful brown skin. “But the _problem_  is that you did that _in front of everyone there_.”

 

“At no point did you tell me to stop, _cariño_.” Lance turned to catch Keith’s lips in a quick kiss. “I would have behaved if you asked me to.” And then a second kiss, sweeter and longer, followed by the sound of the warehouse entrance sliding open.

 

Immediately, the two of them were focused, staring as a slim, furred alien with wolf-like ears walked out, tossing a bag full of fake IDs onto the back of his speeder. 

 

They had to be subtle — Gunthra couldn’t know that they were on her turf without permission, messing with one of her buyers. She _wouldn’t_ know as long as Lance and Keith didn’t mess with any of her vehicles or her people. As long as they waited until after the transaction was complete, and Gunthra got her money.

 

Her business with Croliat was done. Lance was a crack shot.

 

“Okay, that’s him,” Keith confirmed quietly. “You’ve gotta tag that loose nozzle on the back.”

 

“I know, Keith.”

 

“It can’t be totally shot off, just … nudged, so that it leaks …”

 

“Stop backseat sniping.”

 

“If you had just let me sneak down and do it by hand …”

 

“Except that it would have started leaking water right away, and our timing would be off. So shut up, and let me focus.”

 

Keith did as he was told, smiling at Lance’s commanding tone. He was still pressed in far too close, their legs tangled together, but he didn’t want to risk breaking Lance’s focus by pulling away. He slowed his breathing to match his partner’s, and he didn’t move a muscle as Lance lined up the shot. Lance had to wait until Croliat started the engine, to mask the sound, the slight vibration of impact …

 

The speeder revved up.

 

Lance fired.

 

Croliat drove off.

 

As Lance looked down his fancy new scope attachment, a slow grin formed. “Well, I see a neat little trail following him out of town.”

 

Keith shoved Lance over onto his back, barely having to move to shift on top, pressing into his mouth to taste the flavour of _master sharpshooter_. Lance made a surprised noise that quickly faded into a low moan. His rifle was still clutched in one hand, but his free left hand snuck in a quick grope, squeezing teasingly, and then with dangerous intent.

 

“We need to start heading out,” Keith reminded him gruffly, pulling back just far enough to be able to see Lance’s face. 

 

Lance nodded, licking his lips. His eyes were tracking Keith’s mouth. “Yeah. But first we have to give him a five minute head start …”

 

Keith needed no further prompting to drop his head back down, muffling a burst of delighted laughter.

 

******

 

Lance and Keith stopped their hovertruck just a few miles out of Hutton, right smack in the middle of their usual route back to Dagos— completely normal, totally inconspicuous, and far away from anybody that might see. Croliat was there, fretting over his speeder, the engine having overheated. 

 

They had timed this so perfectly Keith had to keep a broad grin from spreading across his face. Lance winked at Keith before he hopped out of the truck, strolling over to Croliat with that leisurely saunter that involved way more hip movement than was needed.

 

“Hey there, buddy,” Lance crooned.

 

Croliat’s hand dropped to his sidearm, but after he gave Lance a quick up-and-down, he relaxed. Fractionally. Keith stepped out of the truck but stayed back, leaning against the hood, one hand on a knife, the other brushing a few loose strands of hair away from his face.

 

The alien spared Keith a glance, and when Keith made no move toward him, he redirected his gaze back to Lance. 

 

“McClains,” Croliat said warily. “I’m not trespassing on Jorlack or Bos’Nar’s routes —”

 

“Nope,” Lance agreed. “You’re not, and even if you were, no big, we’re not working any contracts for them right now. But we were on our way home and noticed your engine trouble.” Lance took another step closer. Croliat didn't tighten his grip on his gun at this action — instead, his hand dropped and his long, canine tongue licked at his lips.

 

“I can pay you a couple of gems for some water,” Croliat offered, and he smiled at Lance, totally ignoring Keith.

 

“Sounds great!” Lance chirped. “Keith! Be a dear and bring over that jug, will ya?”

 

Keith rolled his eyes and did as he was told, reaching into the truck bed and pulling out a hefty jug of water.

 

“We’ll fix you up for three gems, and you think fondly of us after, okay?” Lance patted Croliat’s chest lightly. When the alien reflexively looked down, Lance brushed his hand upwards, tilting the wolf-man’s head up. “Made you look, dude.”

 

Keith didn’t think he was imagining the slight edge of drool on Croliat’s mouth, or the way he sniffed the air a little more deeply than normal. Lance had let his hand linger on Croliat’s chin, so clearly he hadn’t missed it either. His grin widened and his eyelids grew heavier. 

 

Croliat swallowed hard, glancing over at Keith again, nervous.

 

Lance had broken his fair share of wandering hands, but Keith had stabbed someone _very close_ to the groin once. Between the two of them, nobody dared touch Lance out of turn. So Keith lifted the hood of the speeder up without even sparing Croliat a death glare — he obviously knew how to behave.

 

As Keith poured the water into the cooling line, he reared back a little, tilting his head as if he had just heard something.

 

“Hm, think you’ve got an issue here …” He wandered around to the back of the speeder, bending low from a distance, his hands visible to Croliat so there could be no doubt that he wasn’t touching anything. “Come over and look.”

 

Keith took several steps back and let Croliat inspect his vehicle himself. There was no way this could be blamed on them, and Keith wasn’t about to mess it up now by getting in close enough for Croliat to accuse Keith of tampering.

 

The wolf alien sat down, looking towards the nozzle that had been pushed out of alignment, and he finished the job by pulling it off completely, cursing to himself. “Must’ve hit a rock or something. Shit.”

 

“That’s why you ran out of water.” Keith flicked a smile over at Lance. “We’ve got some adhesive strips in the truck. That should get you back to the city, at least, until you can get it fixed.” Keith wandered back to their vehicle, pretending to rummage around before he came up with the temporary fix for Croliat’s busted nozzle.

 

“Wow, Keith, good catch!” Lance sounded genuine, and also, still fairly sultry. “Hey Croliat, how about a few extra gems?”

 

Croliat scowled. “You’re not _that_ pretty, McClain, don’t push it.”

 

“Look, moron, I know who you work for. We could just leave you out here. Because being late to _anything_ run by Keegin Dras is good for your health.” Lance’s voice lost its suave tone. “You wanna risk a few fingers, be my guest. Keith, give the man his water and let’s go. He can figure this out.”

 

“No — wait!” Croliat barked out, his eyes wide. “Damn it, McClain. I don’t have much on me. I only brought a couple of extra gems for a drink at Jorlack’s that I couldn’t get … I gave you all I got!”

 

“See, there was no need for attitude,” Lance scolded him mildly. “Keith, what do you think?”

 

“I think that he definitely can offer us _something_ ,” Keith said coldly. “And I’ll just hold onto these strips here until he thinks of it. Unlike him, I’m in no hurry.”

 

“You won’t take my word for more gems later,” Croliat said frantically. “I … I don’t know what else …”

 

“Okay, lemme help you out. I like gun parts, that’s a solid way to earn my favour,” Lance listed, using his fingers to count. “Cool hats, blue wine, music —”

 

“Party!” Croliat cut him off, panting a little. “Red Dawn — I can get you in there.”

 

“Um, no way. You’re a grunt. There’s no way I believe you can get us in.” Lance raised his eyebrows, the picture of skepticism. 

 

“I can!” Croliat boasted, and this time he grinned confidently. “I’m a bouncer _and_ I watch over the Red Rooms. You come in any day next week. I’ll get you in.”

 

“And if you don’t get us in, I will absolutely make it my mission to fuck up your next deadline,” Lance said pleasantly. “All right. Hand over the gems. Keith will fix up your speeder well enough that you’ll make it in time to keep your hands in one piece … And we’ll see you next week, buddy.” Lance trailed one finger down Croliat’s chest, smiling brightly when the alien scrambled to offer up the gems.

 

By the time their mark was rushing off towards Whiero City, Lance had Keith crowded up against the hood of the hovertruck, picking up where they’d left off on the roof.

 

“We can go home now, you know,” Keith said on the edge of a gasp as Lance worked on marking up the skin where neck met shoulder. “Or-or not …” 

 

Lance hummed and laughed at him. “Get in the back of the truck, we’ve got some daylight left.”

 

Keith relaxed, shaking his head at his own weakness, smiling at their combined ridiculousness. “Watching you pull off stuff like this … First that shot, and then that show for Croliat …” Keith climbed into the truck bed, leaning against the cab and staring with darkened eyes as Lance scrambled in after him. “You’re on a roll today.”

 

“Just think of the _roll_ we’ll be in next week. The amount of gems … Getting one over _Keegin Dras_ ,” Lance said, sighing as he unbuttoned Keith’s shirt. “We’ll finally have enough gems to _leave_ if this …”

 

Keith let Lance help him out of his shirt, and then he speedily set about removing every stitch of clothing Lance had on. “ _If_ it works, yeah … But let’s just take it one step at a time.”

 

“And this step went pretty damn well, so, celebrate!” Lance waved his hands in the air. Keith used the distraction to tackle him and pin him, smothering his laughter and then later on, his moans.

 

******

 

“I thought this was the easy part of your plan,” Yathir called to them as they stumbled into the inn, dusty and bruised.

 

“It was!” Lance said with a smirk, which turned slightly sheepish. “But, uh, there was … a brief stop to … clean the truck bed.”

 

“We really should have cleaned it _earlier_ ,” Keith said, wiping the dirt from his face with his sleeve. The back of their hovertruck was coated with desert dust. He also might have a few cactus spines in … not so good places.

 

“And _somebody_ shouldn’t have knocked me flat into it — my whole back is gonna be black and blue.”

 

“I’ll remind you next time _you_ decide to randomly ‘ _clean_ ’ the truck.” Keith raised an eyebrow, since it had been _Lance’s idea_. 

 

Lance knew it too, so he gave up, shooting Keith an apologetic little grin. “Right. You’ve got a point there.” He brushed by Keith as he walked over to the bar, ducking down to whisper in his ear, “ _Worth it_.”

 

Yes, it definitely had been. Keith hid a smirk of his own.

 

Yathir stood up straight, announcing to his handful of evening patrons, “We’ve got an early night tonight — clear on out. You can settle your tabs tomorrow.”

 

There was some grumbling as people stood up, a few electing to leave their gems at their tables. No one dared cross Yathir on his turf. It was pretty much guaranteeing a set of broken bones and a concussion. That’s if he didn’t leave a grenade as a parting gift in your vehicle.

 

As a bit of fun, maybe four or five months into their stay on this world, Lance and Keith had challenged Yathir to a sparring match. They figured between the two of them, with their Paladin training and war experience, they’d be able to hold their own. And they had … until Yathir had stopped playing around and absolutely kicked the crap out of them. Keith grinned a bit in fond remembrance — humiliating defeat aside, it _had_ been fun. 

 

Moreover, Yathir had cleaned up that day, since a bunch of folks had come around to watch and bet on the outcome.

 

“So you’re set to go through with this?” Yathir asked after the last customers had left. He moved to lock the door behind them, drawing the curtains and bringing up a few security feeds he’d installed since Lance and Keith had started paying him a larger cut of their profits … Which they hadn’t been able to recently, during their work-drought. Keith watched the screens behind the bar for a moment, seeing the last hovertruck pull away before nodding.

 

“Yeah. Yathir, it’s a risk, but the pay-off …”

 

“And she’s got it coming,” Lance said, pulling up a stool, making moon-eyes at Yathir. The older alien arched a silver eyebrow, but soon after, Yathir put a plate of steaming leftovers in front of him. Lance’s happy noises were stifled as he started stuffing food in his mouth.

 

“What Lance said,” Keith continued, taking a seat next to him. “We’ve been working barely a handful of times a week, and always short, low-paying gigs. I don’t care whether or not she’s threatening people off us anymore — the fact that she did it in the first place means people are gonna be afraid to hire us for a long time.”

 

Lance swallowed loudly. “And while we love you so, we also want to get back to where we came from. Sooner rather than later.”

 

Yathir had heard these words before — they obviously didn’t offend him, but this time, he seemed … troubled.

 

He served Keith a glass of pink _grethi_ juice, resting four of his hands on the counter before he spoke again; his tone was more serious than Keith had ever heard from him. 

 

“I warned you about getting involved with Keegin Dras,” Yathir began.

 

“No, actually, what you said was that Keegin Dras was really dangerous, maybe one of the most dangerous, and that we made the right choice in not working with her. But now she’s trying to starve us out, force us —” Keith was getting angrier the more he talked. 

 

Yathir raised a hand, cutting him off.  “Yes, you’re right. But listen to me again, Keith. I’ve never steered you boys wrong. I told you to be careful, but I see what she’s doing. I see she’s forced you into this position. But there are other ways, less … ostentatious. Less likely to get you killed. This isn’t like Dreyulin — he may have controlled the trade routes, but ultimately he was a linear thinker, and too bold, too confident in his power. It was impressive but not all that surprising that you two took him down.”

 

“Are you saying we’re not as smart as her?” Lance asked, pouting. “Also, hey, that bank job put us on the map. We wouldn’t be anywhere near as in demand as we are — uh, _were_ — if we hadn’t taken that asshole out.”

 

Yathir let loose a low chuckle, taking Lance’s now empty plate and pushing a cup of juice towards him. “I know, Lance. Those kinds of cunning moves belong to the ones that are in charge around these parts.”

 

Lance preened under the praise. “Damn straight.”

 

“But Dras isn’t like Jorlack, Gunthra, Caspor … or any of the others you’ve dealt with.” Yathir breathed in deeply, his eyes unblinking as they flicked back and forth between Lance and Keith. “I should have explained this to you when she first tried to hire you on.”

 

Keith said nothing, waiting patiently. Lance sipped his juice, pressing his thigh against Keith’s as they both watched Yathir take his time before speaking again.

 

“Keegin Dras volunteered to come here.”

 

Both Lance and Keith reeled back, Lance a tad more dramatically. 

 

“ _Volunteered?!_ ” Lance waved his hands around. “ _No one_ is here by choice. No one in their _right mind_ —”

 

Yathir nodded once. “So I’ve said.Dras comes from Jacomir, and she came to ensure that this planet remains as exactly as it is. That few escape, and that even fewer dream of leaving. She’s been highly successful, as you’ve seen.”

 

Keith’s head spun with this new information. “She’s … some kind of watchdog?”

 

“How does that even make sense?” Lance demanded. “We know the smugglers go back and forth all the damn time —”

 

“And they are perfectly content in their lot. They are paid an absurd amount of gems and live comfortable lives, more or less,” Yathir said dryly.

 

One could live relatively in peace here; Yathir did, after all, but there was always the threat of a knife or bullet to the back. If you didn’t have the strength or cunning to keep people away … You always stood to lose something of value to you. And keep right on losing until there was nothing left but your life. Keith had seen it happen. 

 

Keith and Lance had been fighting tooth and nail to keep it from happening to them.

 

“Yathir, we get that this is basically _Australia Planet_ , okay?” Lance said. “And that y’all have been making some pretty hard lemonade with the crap lemons you’ve been given … But you seriously expect me to believe that _no one_ wants to leave?”

 

“Most of the people here faced life sentences back on their home world.” Yathir turned his back on them as he washed their empty plates and glasses. “And when they chose exile … This place offers them freedom to be _exactly_ who they are, amongst others who are exactly as they are. A bitter fight to survive they are all familiar with. Only now, they are free to fight in whatever ways they see fit, with few consequences except ones they understand and accept.”

 

Keith stared at the old alien’s long silver braid. He trusted Yathir with his life. With Lance’s life. But now he was wondering if the questions he’d held back out of respect ( _What did Yathir do to end up here?_ being the most prevalent one) should be asked. But no, Yathir was their support, their unwavering ally. If he never told them why, Keith was fine with never knowing.

 

“So then, Keegin Dras does what?” Lance asked, his brow furrowed. “Because if people prefer this to jail, then why come down here at all?”

 

“Because there is that rare time you do get a clever soul who yearns for more. Maybe to organize into an autonomous state, not unlike your Australia. Maybe to wreak vengeance on the planetary governments that deemed them unworthy. These clever souls have just enough brilliance and charisma to stir the population … But they are gone before more than a handful rally to their cause. And those handful disappear soon after.”

 

“So, Dras gets to be exactly as she is,” Keith said, a bitter smile on his face. “Because I’m guessing she was a big time government or military type, with claws too sharp.”

 

Yathir faced them once more, and his eyes were clearer, harder than ever. Keith didn’t flinch, but he did feel the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

 

“Some people yearn for battle like a drug. They no longer feel alive without it,” Yathir said calmly. “And this planet is nothing if not a constant battle. The field shifts, the players change, but that eternal struggle … Many relish it.”

 

“So when you said she was ‘one’ of the more dangerous people, you meant actually meant _the_ most dangerous crime boss of them all?” Keith said, dry as the desert that surrounded them.

 

“Well, shit,” Lance said, his jaw clenching. “Nothing like going up against a freaking tyrant. I’m feeling all nostalgic now.”

 

“She doesn’t rule,” Yathir corrected. “She plays by the same guidelines that we all do, hence her business and her elite gang of thugs. She knows that’s the best way to maintain — she’s part of us, you see. Accepted. If she tried to rule, she’d be overthrown in short order, and her … stay, would end.”

 

Keith breathed out a humourless laugh. “This is _fun_ for her, Lance. She likes this place as it is. She doesn’t want to be some kind of queen or military despot.” He scrubbed at his dirty face with one hand. “The Galra would hate her. No need to conquer or dominate, even though she probably has the whole planet at her feet and permission to do whatever the hell she wants.”

 

“Not this time,” Lance snapped, harsh and determined. “She’s not going to screw us over on a whim. We’re going to break into that vault, and she’s gonna pay us for every job we couldn’t get because of her stupid game. And then we’re going to get off this damn planet. Maybe we’ll go to Jacomir and give them some of their own back.” Lance’s blue eyes gleamed with danger. “They don’t believe in rehabilitation, they believe in just cutting people off, _banishing them to die_. No second chances. That’s fucked up, and I’m inclined to give ’em a taste of our home-away-from-home.”

 

“That would be unwise.” Yathir reached over to Lance, appearing even more serious and concerned.

 

Lance grit his teeth and waved him off. Several strained seconds later, he was back, smiling sheepishly, his blue eyes less like dark ocean depths, more like the sea under a bright sun. Keith hadn’t realized he’d tensed up in the face of that low, threatening voice, the uncompromising violence in it, until he felt his muscles loosening at its retreat. It happened now and again that it was _Lance_ who needed to be pulled back from the brink. But he was quick to smile, to shrink down and laugh off their worry. 

 

Keith tried not to worry, and he actually succeeded most of the time — as long as Lance kept coming back …

 

“Eh, just needed to vent. When we get out of here? I don’t care where we end up as long as we’ve got cryo pods and showers that run hot for longer than ten minutes. Also, videogames.”

 

“You know what we have here, though? A _bed_.” Keith pushed at Lance’s shoulder. “I’ll even let you get first dibs on the shower before we crash. Go.”

 

Lance stuck out his tongue and winked afterwards. “We could share?”

 

“Then no actual showering would be happening,” Keith said, shaking his head. “Go on, Lance.”

 

When Lance pouted but gave in, stomping up the stairs, stripping as he went, Keith turned back to Yathir. “You know we don’t like to ask you questions.”

 

“I know.” Yathir smiled. “And I thank you for your kindness.”

 

“It’s not even the least we can do for you, after all you’ve done for us. But I have to … Yathir. We don’t want to start anything. If we do this, if we steal from her and win … Best-case scenario is that she never finds out it was us. Worst case scenario, she does …”

 

“Then you’ve simply scored a point in your favour,” Yathir answered. “Perhaps she’ll recruit a few mercenary bands not unlike the upstarts you’ve faced before — eager to garner her favour by taking you both down.”

 

“She has no reason to think we’re anything special?” People showed up on this desert rock all the time, from all over the system, and a few from outside of the system — that Lance and Keith were of a species never seen before had engendered only a little curiosity. Mostly, they accepted that Lance and Keith came from very far away, and went about trying to screw them over as they would anybody else. This wasn’t exactly a place full of scientifically minded people. 

 

“None. But you would do better to not get caught. Even if you finally have the gems to get your passage off world, Dras would make it incredibly difficult for you, out of spite.”

 

“Which is my next question — why does she let some people get away?”

 

Yathir wiped down the counter, and Keith leaned back, allowing him the room to clean. “Jacomir’s systems are difficult to penetrate. The hackers here are working with rudimentary computers — and yet, a few manage. If Jacomir isn’t smart enough to keep them out, then …” Yathir shrugged. “She doesn’t waste her time on people that get past the shields. They become Jacomir’s problem, not hers.”

 

So as long as Lance and Keith got a ship past those shields, they were free. Free to find a port on a new planet. To find a way to contact the Castle. But those were vague concepts that meant nothing until they landed on another world and actually saw what they were dealing with. Keith felt oddly … unsettled about it. He knew this place. He knew how it worked. He knew the people. The idea of starting from scratch …

 

“You should get yourself cleaned up, Keith. You’re dirtying my bar just by breathing.” Yathir chuckled when Keith patted down his shirt, his expression contrite.

 

“Sorry. Right. I … Thanks, Yathir.” He stood up. “Do you need any more help down here?”

 

“If I said yes, then all I would get is your services for as long as it takes Lance to get bored and seduce you back upstairs.” Yathir grinned knowingly. “Forgive me, but I’ve seen it happen enough times, and worse still is when Lance doesn’t even wait for you two to get back —”

 

“You’re right, I get it, _please stop_ ,” Keith said, flushing bright red — this kind of talk was so very uncomfortable when it came from the alien who was like a grandfather to them. 

 

A really badass grandfather whom they knew next to nothing about, other than the fact that he took them in, no questions asked. Yathir didn’t know about them being Paladins. He didn’t know about the Galra, or the Castle, or Voltron. Lance and Keith had returned the favour, leaving Yathir’s past to himself.

 

Keith didn’t want to leave Yathir behind. But, somehow, he knew this old alien wouldn’t come with them.

 

“I better get up there, then,” Keith said, pulling his hair free of its ponytail. “We’ll, uh, try to keep it down.”

 

“Much appreciated,” Yathir called to Keith’s back. “Oh, and I just collected a few more jars of that massage gel if you —”

 

“We’re good  _thanks Yathir please stop right the hell now!_ ” Keith took the stairs at a run, ignoring the rumbling laughter behind him.

 

Keith could see Lance’s long legs from down the hallway — the shameless jerk hadn’t even bothered shutting their bedroom door. 

 

Lance was out of the shower, lying on their bed wearing nothing but a wide grin, laughing at Keith’s red face when he walked in. “Seriously? Yathir cracks _one_ joke —”

 

“I’m not used to it coming from him!” Keith defended himself, stripping quickly and shoving his dirty clothes at Lance. Lance jumped out of the way, whining.

 

“Not cool, dude! I’m clean!”

 

Keith ignored him, heading straight into their bathroom. He maybe should have wondered more about Lance’s flagrant nudity; when he came out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, Lance was fully dressed again. Keith stared at the leather pants, the loose shirt, the gun holsters (albeit empty of guns at the moment), and the knowingly arched eyebrow.

 

“Guess what we’re doing tonight?” Lance asked, nigh on _purring_.

 

There was an automatic response to that voice Keith could not help, but he had enough restraint to keep himself far away from the lure of that tone. He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow in return. “Sleeping? Because we had a damn long day?”

 

“Nah, not yet,” Lance said with a wink, and he reached over to the nightstand, holding a small silver compact — a pillbox? When Lance popped it open, two dark purple pills sat inside. “Maybe you shouldn’t have made the promise to _keep it down_.”

 

Keith felt his pulse jump. “Really? Now?”

 

“I mean, we’ve run all the tests we could, we know how this stuff works. It’s time to get this part of the plan underway — if we do it now, we’ll have days to recover.” Lance gave him a look that managed to be both ridiculous and smoldering, and then he eased up into a teasing smirk. “I figured, after what I did last night during the poker game —”

 

“So you admit you were being a jackass?”

 

“— you might like to wreak your vengeance upon me. We get what we need for our diversion next week, and you get to _wreck me_.” Lance’s voice dropped low enough that Keith had to swallow down a whimper. But he stood resolutely, immovable as Lance set up one of their computers to record audio.

 

“Lemme know when to hit the button — ah, but first, get some clothes on. Need to get all the sounds, starting with the lovely soundtrack of me stripping you.” Lance ran a finger up the length of his own neck, drawing Keith’s eyes to the spot just below and behind his ear that he always liked to mark.

 

Keith was dressed inside of thirty seconds. Lance laughed, stepping over the bed and dropping down right in front of him, his blue eyes bright and happy. Keith rarely got to see Lance so uncomplicatedly joyful. The record button had been pushed, the performance beginning, so he didn’t say anything other than, “You sure?”

 

Lance had the pills in one hand. “Ah, _querido_ , I want a wild ride tonight.” He downed the two purple aphrodisiacs in one go. “I don’t care what it takes, but I want you to take me down to my base parts. And then I’m gonna return the favour.”

 

Before Keith could even come up with something equally madness inducing, Lance was kissing him. He was being purposefully messy, deliberately loud and wet — and Keith gave as good as he got. Too soon, Keith realized he had to put an end to their make-out session, as they needed to be making some _really vulgar_ noises. 

 

Keith pulled back to say something to get Lance going … But then he saw that Lance’s pupils had dilated hugely. A second later, Lance was a giddy, whimpering mess. The absolute _filth_ that spilled from his lips had Keith embarrassed and enthralled in equal measure.

 

He sent a mental apology to Yathir, who probably knew exactly what was happening right now; for the last week or so, the innkeeper had been suffering through their experiments with this drug. 

 

Keith let himself get lost in Lance’s relentless energy, his no-holds-barred need for him. Lance wasn’t out of control enough to forget the reason behind this — his words and gasps and moans were far louder than normal. Keith made a concentrated effort to be more obvious too, but it was nothing compared to the _terrible, wonderful, painfully gorgeous_ things Lance kept saying, kept _doing_.

 

Eventually, Keith forgot why this was happening — he only cared about getting as many screams out of his fiancé as he could.

 

No heist, no Keegin Dras, or Yathir, or fear for their future — just Lance, his warm skin under Keith’s hands, and their voices mingling in shared pleasure.

 

******

_ One Week Later _

******

 

“Zan, you are freaking amazing, dude!” Lance nearly tackled Brisha’s brother as he came into the inn, wrapping him up in a tight hug. “I knew you’d come through!”

 

“Whatever you need, whenever, Lance,” Czanliu said with a bright smile. “Denna’s aching for you to come on back —”

 

“Nuh-uh — one time gig!” Lance reminded him cheerfully, clutching to his chest one of the bags Czanliu had brought with him. “But I get that you have to ask.” He peeked in the bag, a silly high-pitched noise escaping him. “You found the … _And, wow, this_ …” More giddy sounds.

 

Keith ignored Lance’s happy squealing in favour of welcoming both Zan and Brisha in with some drinks and a few slices of Yathir’s famous pie. He had been working the bar for Yathir all day as the older alien reset his sleep cycle. “Hey guys, come on and have a bite to eat.” He scrubbed down the counter and put down the full glasses and the freshly re-heated pie.

 

Brisha brightened noticeably. “Yathir made dessert? Zan, get out of my way.”

 

Czanliu was one Denna’s top earners, and therefore one of her lieutenants. While Keith could be a bit uncomfortable with him due to the awkward circumstances of their first meeting, he couldn’t deny that, much like Brisha, Zan was a miraculously good person.

 

“You eat, and I’ll get these two pretty-upped for their night out,” Zan said, nudging his sister with a hip as he walked over to Keith, smiling kindly. “I’m guessing that, unlike Lance, you’re not going to be picky about what I do for you —“

 

“Excuse you, but was I right about the sparkling liner or _was I right_?”

 

“So, you okay with me getting you done first?” Zan lifted up a satchel, filled to bursting with all kinds of make-up and clothes. “Lance and Brisha can stuff themselves while I make you worthy of a night at the Red Dawn.”

 

“I can’t believe you managed to get a way in,” Brisha said, and there was a note of worry in her tone. “I know that it’s supposed to be incredible, but —”

 

“C’mon, we’ll be fine — Dras doesn’t deal directly with that place, just profits from charging them rent to take up space in her building.” Lance bounced off his stool, coming around the counter to take over for Keith, ignoring the way the sleepy alien at the end of the bar perked up at the sight of him. 

 

Lance snatched the dishtowel off Keith’s shoulder and pushed him out towards Czanliu. “I haven’t partied in years. Seriously. And Keith? Well, I’m sure you can tell that he’s partied _never_.”

 

Zan was tugging Keith upstairs, but Keith turned around just long enough to give Lance the finger. “I am piles of fun, asshole.”

 

“Sure, honey, whatever you say!” Lance called to his back, and no doubt he was also firing off a rude gesture, if Brisha’s laughter was anything to go by.

 

Keith led Zan to his and Lance’s room, shutting the door behind them. “So, here we are. What do you need me to do?”

 

Zan studied him for a moment. “Hm. Nothing for now. Just sit.”

 

Czanliu respected Keith’s awkwardness and simply sat him down on the bed, getting straight to work. Other than a few soft-spoken directions, the time passed in a relatively comfortable silence. The only thing Keith objected to was the eyeliner, but Zan just laughed that off. “Okay, so we’ll go for a smudged look — except you definitely need wings.”

 

Keith had no idea what any of that meant, but as long as that sharp looking thing wasn’t going into his eye, it was all fine.

 

“By the way, just to be clear — Lance would make a killing if he took Denna up on the full-time gig. I know he’s said no, but just in case ...”

 

“Just in case I’m the one forbidding him?” Keith asked dryly. “Figured you knew better by now.”

 

“It’s been months, Keith — I do know better,” Zan said with a compassionate smile, one that probably put all his customers at ease instantly. “But just in case Lance is holding back because he thinks you might not be comfortable with it … If you reassure him, he might change his mind.”

 

“Zan, I appreciate the concern, but I swear, Lance made up his own mind about it, again — I actually … This time, _I_ tried to convince him to stay. But he wouldn’t have it.”

 

Zan was now brushing something along his cheekbones. “Ah. I understand. Can’t stand to be apart from you.”

 

“We do work separate jobs sometimes, you know,” Keith grumbled.

 

“Yeah, but if Lance worked at Denna’s, that would end up being _most of the time_.” Zan grinned. “You two are sickening.”

 

Keith tried to argue this, but Zan took that moment to start applying something slimy to his lips. Zan’s blue skin, so like his sister’s, flushed purple along his cheeks. “Thanks for not pounding my face in, by the way, when you came by to ask about Lance working with us for that week.”

 

His mouth free, Keith sighed heavily, holding back a cringe only just. “Can we all just forget about that, please?”

 

Zan picked up a different brush, swiping over Keith’s cheeks again. “No, because Lance tells the story at every given opportunity, with his favourite opening line —”

 

“ _‘Lemme tell you about the time Keith thought I was stripping for extra gems.’_ ” Keith mimicked Lance’s smug tone fairly well. “Yeah, I know, damn it.”

 

“And because it was rather funny to watch you scramble to be both supportive of his choices and _terrified_ of them. You’re probably the most adorable couple on this rock. Well, second — Telliya literally challenged Grisner to a naked wrestling match _in broad daylight, on the street_ , as a proposal.”

 

“I proposed to Lance while we were in the middle of blowing up Dreyulin and his crew,” Keith countered, and a small part of him reeled at how _proud_ he sounded.

 

Zan burst out laughing. “That … should not surprise me in the least, but somehow …” He pulled back, tilting his head to one side, then another. His widest smile yet broke out. “All right. You are my best work, and you’re ready to take your promised one out for a night on the town.”

 

He bent down to toss the bag onto the bed. “I brought these as well. Lance had some ideas for your wardrobe, but I decided to bring a variety of things — pick whatever you like. I think I got your size right for most of those.” Zan shoved his make-up aside and turned to leave the room. “I’m going to have some of that pie before I start in on Lance, so take your time choosing!”

 

He shut the door behind him. Keith reached for the bag, curious. He dumped it out over the bed … and decided _nope, not wearing any of this._

 

Except that he did have to wear _something_ Red Dawn appropriate, and he had to … layer, for heist-type reasons.

 

So when he came downstairs, it was with slow, uneasy steps — the dark crimson pants were practically cutting off his circulation; he was pathetically grateful for the layer beneath them, otherwise they would leave _nothing_ to the imagination. As it was, they showed off more than he was comfortable with. The shimmering black shirt was equally tight, a blood red scarf tied around Keith’s neck helping him feel less exposed (and also concealing the flightsuit he wore under it all). 

 

He had used a small, red clip to put his hair in a messy half-up style. His feet were in his own black boots because they were comfortable, but he went the extra mile and tried to shine them.

 

Lance fumbled the glass he was wiping clean to the point where it flew upwards, Brisha catching as it sailed over their heads. 

 

She stared at Keith with wide eyes, her lips pulling up in a smile that mirrored her brother’s. “Zan! Well done!”

 

Czanliu swallowed a mouthful of pie so he could grin again. “Nice choices there, Keith — really work well together.”

 

Keith raised an eyebrow at his gobsmacked fiancé. “You’ve seen me naked. I don’t understand what’s the deal here.”

 

“You … I … _Zan!_ ” Lance spluttered. “Did you have to wing the eyeliner? Is that sparkling lip-gloss? Zan, _I hate you so much_. I’m going to have to break _so many hands_ tonight.”

 

Zan finished off his pie and grabbed one of Lance’s flailing arms. “Ah, but first we need to get you ready! C’mon, let’s go.”

 

The sleepy alien at the end of the bar watched Lance go mournfully, but then he caught a glimpse of Keith as Lance was marched up past him to their room … And the alien brightened again, his beady grey eyes consuming Keith hungrily. 

 

Keith had no problem with this as long as the stranger kept his mouth shut and his hands off. Yathir’s regular or not, Keith had no problem dropkicking perverts out of the inn. He took his place behind the bar again, picking up where Lance had left off with the cleaning. 

 

“We’re closing up in a few!” he called out to the handful of patrons left in the bar. “Pay your tabs _now_ , not later.”

 

Muttered complaining rang out, but they did as they were told. Some of them took their sweet time counting out their gems, ogling Keith blatantly. Others just tossed the gems at him and left without a word. Keith liked those kinds of customers best.

 

“You’re sure about this?” Brisha asked as soon as they were gone. “I know Lance has been itching to let loose …”

 

Keith shrugged and said nothing.

 

Another part of their plan — _n_ _o one_ could know, could even slightly suspect their _real_ reasons for hitting up the famous Red Dawn. For the last few weeks, Lance had been whining to Keith, out in public, about how _bored_ he was, and how he needed some kind of rush that didn’t involve shooting or stabbing. 

 

Lance had asked around to investigate where the best party spot (even though they both knew already), and made a lot of noise about avoiding Dras, but when everyone started arguing with Lance about how _the Red Dawn is the only place for a real good time_ … Lance slowly (and loudly) started changing his tune.

 

Keith figured it had worked. Neither Brisha nor Czanliu had cottoned on to what was happening; if Brisha knew, she would try to say something, however subtle, to dissuade them. This seemed to be her regular kind of sweet concern, not _Lance and Keith are going to do something insanely dangerous and life-threatening_ worry.

 

“You know not to take anything the Red Room guards offer, right?” Brisha said out of nowhere. “There are a few drugs that can —”

 

“We know,” Keith said with a small smile. “Lance might’ve … tried out _Urus_.”

 

Brisha’s eyes widened. “Oh. Well. That’s definitely not … Hm. When was this?”

 

“Last week? After the first time, he, uh, bought … six more doses.” Keith coughed as Brisha stared him up and down, her mouth twitching.

 

“And you’re still standing? All right, in that case, I take back my concern.” She reached over to pat Keith on the shoulder. “Your species seems frail, but I should’ve remembered that you’re a lot stronger than you look. I suppose that applies to your mat—” 

 

“Thank you, Brisha, we’re done now, I appreciate you coming by, but really, we only needed your brother.” Keith glared at her as she laughed in his face.

 

“I needed to make sure you two were all right,” she said kindly, making Keith feel guilty. “Also, I had to see how you look cleaned up.”

 

“Allow me to answer! _I_ _n-freaking-credible_.”

 

Keith looked up towards the stairs and … He wasn’t holding a glass, so he had nothing to drop to the floor. Except for his jaw.

 

Lance stood there, posing with one hand on his hip, the other in his artfully messy hair. Clearly, he’d had no problems with the eyeliner, and what was _worse_ was that his eyes shone an even deeper, vibrant blue thanks to the rich, dark bronze eye shadow that faintly sparkled, blending into his skin. His cheekbones had a shimmer to them, and his lips were a dusky pink that looked  _delicious._

 

But while the make-up did a painfully good job at emphasizing Lance’s natural good looks, it was the outfit that had Keith digging his nails into the wooden counter.

 

Because Lance had broken their rule about layering. He clearly wasn’t wearing his flightsuit beneath those midnight blue leather pants. _Paired with heeled black boots_. Or the tight royal blue shirt, cinched closed by a black, laced-up piece of clothing that looked like a _fucking corset_. Never mind the choker encircling his neck, with a silver ring dangling from it — perfect for Keith to loop his fingers into to yank Lance down …

 

Brisha stood up and clapped. “Absolutely amazing. I can’t choose between the two of you right now.”

 

“Yeah?” Lance asked slyly, his gaze focused on Keith. “You fully operational over there, cariño?”

 

Keith blinked. “Uh … Yes … And we should go now. Because Croliat’s going to be swapping out as bouncer in a couple of hours — he’s our ticket in, so …” He deliberately dropped his gaze down to the counter — would there ever be a time when Lance _didn’t_ routinely destroy his ability to focus? 

 

“You are so right, we must depart! And also, close up.” Lance swept Czanliu up into a big hug, lifting the taller alien off his feet. “You’re awesome, dude, thanks for the make-overs!”

 

“There was nothing to ‘make over’ here,” Zan said, hugging Lance back. “But you’re welcome. Have enough fun for all four of us, yeah?”

 

“And be careful!” Brisha added as she walked over to hug them both.

 

Zan and Brisha left with more pie, and a few teasing remarks about Keith’s stamina (which Lance cracked up over while shooting Keith a series of exaggerated winks). 

 

Keith went through the motions of locking up, switching on the cameras, securing the safe with Yathir’s profits, and checking in on the six-armed innkeeper — his sleep-cycle should be completed by morning. Lance had been wiping down all the tables and quickly sweeping up a few messes, and they both finished at the same time.

 

The weight of what they were about to attempt settled heavily on Keith’s shoulders. He could feel himself hunching, bracing himself against the anxiety that rushed at him. He had every confidence they could survive this … But what could happen, if Dras got wind of what they’d done …

 

He was distracted from his thoughts by Lance reaching over to a messenger-looking leather bag resting by the foot of the stairs. “What we need is in here. Totally innocuous. They should let us in no problem.”

 

Keith grabbed the bag strap, throwing it over his neck. “Okay. Then …” His voice dried up.

 

“Hey,” Lance said quietly, all his bubbly enthusiasm gone for the moment. “Hey, it’s us two, and that’s all we need to get this done.” His smile was small, but brilliant, and Keith felt some of his load lighten just from the sight.

 

Keith pressed their foreheads together. “We’ve made it so far, so let’s keep going.”

 

Lance gave him the softest of kisses, one that didn’t smudge all of Zan’s hard work. Keith’s eyes closed, and he relished the gentle contact.

 

After a minute, Lance pulled away, his sultry grin firmly in place. “Let’s go get ‘em, cowboy.”

 

Keith shot him a teasing smirk in return, ready for at least the _fun_ part of this to start. Lance held the door open for Keith, who tipped an imaginary hat at him, getting his fiancé to laugh sweetly.

 

As a parting shot, Keith gave a delighted Lance his best Texas accent when he drawled, “Right behind you, partner.”

 

******

 

Keith hated Whiero City. 

 

They drove up in their hovertruck, spotting it once they were still twenty minutes away — the only place they knew of that had skyscrapers and bright lights that never dimmed at night.

 

With more people than the towns of Dagos, Hutton, Ithorla, and Byothal combined, Whiero City was a bustling metropolis, slightly more high-tech than the other towns as well, but its residents were also worse off. Dras and other crimelords held tighter reign here, and if people tried to strike out on their own, separate from the mobs, they generally didn’t last long. Freelancers like Lance and Keith were a rarity, though they were occasionally hired when the bosses needed work done outside of the city, or recruited when they showed promise — like Dras had tried to do with the McClains.

 

Poverty was rampant. Lance frowned, his eyes falling away from the windows to stare at his own lap, as he had the last couple of times they’d been here. Once they passed into the city limits, Keith knew what Lance didn’t want to see — the homeless were mostly children, the elderly, and the ones too disabled to work. Most people could get jobs, no matter how low paying, and generally the gangs took decent care of good workers, but everyone else who couldn’t contribute was left by the wayside.

 

Keith wondered if Jacomir and the other worlds in this system understood what they had created when they sent these people here. If they cared that all future generations descended from these criminals were being condemned right along with them.

 

He suspected the answer to both of those was: _no_.

 

“How close can we get?” Lance asked as Keith drew nearer to Dras’ building — the tallest in all of Whiero.

 

“There’s … a couple of spots back here. Pretty close to the back alley. Not many people, probably because of the smell from the garbage.”

 

“Well, that’s pretty damn near perfect.” Lance shifted impatiently in his seat as Keith parked the hovertruck. Their vehicle was older and more beat-up than many of the others nearby, but Keith made sure everything was locked down, especially the hood, so no one could steal their ride or tamper with the engine.

 

Lance wrinkled his nose as he exited the truck. “Wow, okay, that’s awful.”

 

“Yeah,” Keith said, holding his breath as picked up their bag. “Let’s go.”

 

They walked around the base of the building — a couple of kids rushed up to them, their skinny arms (one of them had four), reaching up. They were begging for gems. 

 

Lance reached into their bag, pulling out a few pieces of bread. Keith hadn’t realized Lance had come prepared, but he wasn’t surprised. The kids paused, looking at them curiously. One little girl, her bright orange hair bogged down with grease and dirt, reached with her eight-fingered hand, taking the offered meal shyly. Lance smiled as she ran away. But the other kids … they brushed off the bread, asking again for gems.

 

Lance put the food down on the ground in front of them and walked away, looking horribly pained.

 

They’d both learned all too well what happened when you gave the Whiero City child beggars money — best-case scenario, they delivered it to their boss, usually an older kid, and then _maybe_ got a cut of it. But worst (and usually the most often) case — other rival kid gangs attacked them. Sometimes killed them. Watching children wielding clubs and homemade daggers was one of the many things Keith wished he’d never seen, could erase from his mind.

 

“They’ll take the bread, don’t worry,” Keith murmured to Lance as they neared the entrance to the club. " _No puedes hacer más por esos niños._ "

 

“Yeah,” Lance breathed out. “Yeah. Okay.” He seemed to shake off the encounter, standing straighter and firing off an edgy smile. “C’mon, I see Croliat at the door.”

 

The line-up to get into the Red Dawn was impressively long. As Lance and Keith approached Croliat, the aliens waiting in said line gave them varying kinds of stares — angry, jealous glaring and openly lurid leering. That second one became more prevalent as Lance, responding to his audience, lowered his lids, eyelashes fluttering, reaching over to greet Croliat with a hand brushing over his wolf-like ears.

 

“Time to pay up,” Lance said cheerily. His voice dropped, “If you can’t, then just know Keith and me will be waiting right here when your shift is done … We'll take our payment out of your hide.”

 

“ _He can take whatever he wants from my hide, any time_ ,” muttered a tall female, her own long ears flicking towards Lance’s conversation.

 

Lance obviously heard her; he shot a quick teasing smirk over his shoulder, winking at her, which got him a sharp sound of pleasure.

 

Croliat gulped before answering. “Yeah, I told you! I’m almost done here, so you’re lucky. C’mon, get inside before Duntho comes to take over.”

 

He opened the door to the annoyed grousing and shouts of those still waiting. Lance waved at everyone, blowing them a kiss as he reached over with his other hand to yank Keith in after him.

 

The darkness took a moment to adjust to, but soon Keith spotted the guards standing by the main entrance to the club, one of them holding a massive hand up, scowling. “Need to scan your bag.”

 

Keith offered it to him easily. They didn’t scan it so much as dump it out, rifling through the water canteens and pocket computers, sniffing at Lance’s deodorant spray, and then pocketing a few gems. Keith didn’t say a word about that last one. Everything was unceremoniously stuffed back in the bag, and then tossed towards him. 

 

“All right. No fights, no outside substances. Red Dawn is yours for the night.”

 

A large set of double doors swung open; bright blue light hit their eyes, and deep pounding bass shot up through their feet, into their ears — the music actually didn’t sound all that different from club music back on Earth, albeit with totally different synthesized instruments. 

 

Lance breathed out an excited squeal, grabbing Keith’s hand and dragging him towards the neon-lit bar, expertly weaving through the writhing bodies. 

 

Keith studied his surroundings. The entire base of Keegin Dras’ skyscraper was taken up by the Red Dawn. It had two levels — Keith could just make out the large balcony where the elite most likely partied. For all intents and purposes, the dance floor took up all available space on the first level — except for the bar Lance was heading to, and a large section way back in a corner, which included a long stretch of hallway for the Red Rooms.

 

A few hands teased at his hair, at his legs and chest, but Keith pushed them all off deftly as Lance finally reached the bar, practically leaping onto it in order to get the bartender’s attention. The huge woman, with four arms, long pierced ears, and a knowing smirk, came to Lance pretty much without delay.

 

“Well, aren’t you small and pretty. Careful, you’re liable to be eaten up around here.” Her tone was serious, but she winked as Lance laughed.

 

“Nah, do you see who I’m with? My promised one will keep ’em in line.”

 

The bartender’s fluorescent green eyes flicked over to Keith. “You mean Mr. Even-Smaller-And-Prettier? All right, if you say so. What’re you looking for?”

 

Lance shot Keith an impish smile, and then leaned right into the bartender’s personal space, stretching up to whisper in her ear.

 

Keith faked disinterest, turning away to survey the dance floor, scowling at anybody who might be eying up either himself or Lance. It wasn’t entirely an act, but he had to play his part — had to behave as though had no idea that Lance was purchasing a dose of Urus. Had to act as though he couldn’t see, from the corner of his eyes, the drinks arriving in short order, and the bartender using a napkin to pass Lance the two pills. Lance gave her their bag for safekeeping — a few gems guaranteed its safety — and though she might snoop in it, she’d find nothing noteworthy.

 

The drinks were glowing, just like most of the things in this dark club. Keith’s was in a skinny tall glass, brilliant orange ball at the bottom of purple liquid. Lance’s was in a wide, short glass, soft blue with bright pink ice diamonds. He offered up his cup and clinked it with Keith’s.

 

“ _Salud, cariño_.” Lance knocked it back within ten seconds. 

 

Keith followed him, the fruity taste mingling with a cool burn down his throat.

 

“Now, you promised to try anything with me tonight,” Lance yelled over the music, slowly tugging Keith out towards the dance floor. 

 

He paused when a burly alien with blue fur (though that may have just been the lights) brushed up against Keith, hands reaching for a grope. In short order, Lance had closed the distance, grabbing the alien man’s wrist, twisting it at an unnatural angle. While the man wheezed in pain, Lance glared at the vaguely interested crowd around them. “ _Not yours to touch_.”

 

He released the alien’s wrist, giving him a firm shove out of their way. He returned to Keith with a bright smile, though there was an edge to it now. “I’ll keep you safe — but you gotta dance with me.”

 

Keith sighed heavily. “Yeah?” He had to raise his voice, but it had the added benefit of providing with them a whole set of witnesses to their antics. 

 

_A whole lot of alibis_.

 

“I did promise. I kind of hate myself for it. But fine.”

 

Lance cheered, and he pulled Keith out far more quickly. They were in the middle before Keith even realized it, and Lance was reeling him in, winding his long limbs all over and around Keith. His mouth caressed Keith’s ear when he spoke next. “I say give us twenty minutes out here … then we’ll check out those rooms.” He nibbled on Keith’s earlobe before withdrawing a short distance.

 

Thus commenced the longest twenty minutes of Keith’s life. Normally, it would be a pleasurable sort of torture, grinding against Lance in dim light, with powerful music and greedy eyes upon them. But combined with the knowledge of what they were _really_ here for … All it accomplished was a rolling nausea in his belly.

 

After maybe ten minutes, Lance brushed his mouth against Keith’s, sliding his lips across his cheek and over to his ear. “Wait here, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

 

He drifted off before Keith could protest. He squinted after him, ignoring a few aliens that became bolder with Lance gone. A quick sidestep, a gut punch, and no one bothered him again as he tried to spot Lance … over by the DJ. He was way into the alien’s space, his head thrown back in a laugh, a hand dropping low … Keith scowled, watching Lance flirt like he had never flirted before.

 

A minute later, he was back, grinning triumphantly. “I brought a memory stick just for this. I hope you like it.”

 

When the current song faded into the next … _That was Earth music_. Keith flushed as remembered Lance stumbling across this melody on Keith’s pocket computer; he’d transferred a few playlists ages ago on the Castle, from the now useless phone that had made the journey from Earth. Keith liked music with easy beats and deep drops — good for an exercising/training soundtrack.

 

Lance’s hands reached for him, and there were curious sounds, shouts of praise, questioning yells towards the DJ. 

 

Keith let Lance guide him into a close press, into a dance Lance had drunkenly taught him months ago, out in the desert under a full moon, the music playing from one of their computers.

 

They moved quickly; Keith stumbled once or twice, but Lance covered him for effortlessly. Just like sparring, Keith knew how to follow Lance’s movements — how to predict him — and once his brain recalled the steps, they flowed perfectly together …  Until one of Lance’s spins ended with Keith pressed back-to-front to him. One arm wrapped around Keith’s chest, the other hand plunged downwards, resting on Keith’s belt while his mouth latched onto his neck.

 

Keith closed his eyes against the hungry gazes of a circle of aliens who danced while keeping their focus entirely on the only two humans in their midst. 

 

Lance’s hand flattened, sliding against Keith’s lower stomach, pushing Keith into a harder, sharper grind, while Lance mirrored the movement behind him. His mouth let go of the skin of Keith’s neck, and moved up and away. Keith could feel Lance’s chin against his temple, and that wasn’t what he wanted … _That wasn’t a good enough show._

 

He hadn’t realized that his own hands were busy — one of them had dropped to cover the hand Lance had sinfully low on Keith’s waist, the other up in Lance’s hair. Keith let go of Lance’s soft brown strands, reaching for that choker, for the silver ring dangling from it. He jerked his head to one side at the same time he yanked on that ring, forcing Lance’s head down and his lips to crash into Keith’s.

 

The kiss was hungry, sloppy, and if the music weren’t pounding through their ears and into their veins, they would’ve heard the wet noise of it. 

 

Their hips kept slowly circling, and Keith separated their mouths long enough to whip around in Lance’s arms; Lance sinuously shifted to accommodate him, the hand that had been on Keith’s stomach now plunging even further down, from the small of his back to one of Lance’s favourite areas to grab … just typically in a _private_ setting. Lance used his grip to force their hips together, the bass of the song crashing them into each other even with the total lack of space between them. 

 

Rhythmic and potent, Keith’s blood thrumming burning energy throughout his entire system — the perfect kind of adrenaline high.He _needed_ that rush.

 

“Now, Lance,” he gasped into his mouth, his arms wrapped around those broad shoulders. He pushed upwards, his tongue reaching out to lightly trace the shell of his ear. Lance shivered, and as the song finally ended, Lance untangled their limbs almost harshly, his eyes dark.

 

“C’mon,” he shouted, sounding wrecked. “This way, _now_.”

 

Even over the next deafening beat, Keith heard the moans of the spectators as Lance dragged Keith yet again, this time off the dance floor. The lengthy alcove with the row of red doors was slightly quieter due to a low wall that buffered the noise, and a row of decorative cacti draped in white and blue lights that somewhat blocked them from sight. 

 

The Red Rooms were notorious for their drug deals, discreet weapons purchases, orgies, and other less ostentatious debaucheries. Lance sought out Croliat, knowing that his shift as bouncer was over; now, he had a second use. He stood guard between two red doors, and one of them was open. Vacant.

 

They didn’t have to wait.

 

“Croliat!” Lance barked out. 

 

Keith felt the pressure of a crowd at his back. Nobody had followed them except with their eyes, but the heat of their stares scorched the air. A few would swoop in as soon as that door was shut. Just like Lance and Keith had planned.

 

The wolf-alien stared at Lance as he approached — the other guards turned their heads, blatantly leering as well. Lance loomed in like a storm, crackling with tension, a whirlwind of passion and determination. “Croliat, I left a bag with the bartender — you bring it on over here, and I’ll make it worth your while.”

 

He said this while staring over his shoulder at Keith. Croliat looked at Keith for maybe the first time that night, and his eyes went very wide. He licked his lips. “Keep watch over this door — don’t let anyone in.” And he was gone.

 

“Oh, we’ll keep watch,” Lance growled, and with that, he manhandled Keith up against that door, latching their mouths together.

 

Well, if they didn’t have a waiting audience _before_ … Lance bent to brace his hands under Keith’s thighs, and Keith jumped up, wrapping his legs around Lance’s waist effortlessly. He felt that knifepoint of anxiety stab into his gut, but the rush that being with Lance, like this, provided — he chose to focus on that, to let himself get consumed …

 

“ _Fuck_.” Croliat had to push his way through a few people, but once he did, his loud exclamation reached Keith’s ears. He ripped his mouth away, turning to eye Croliat — Lance just dove into Keith’s neck, concealing his laughter.

 

“That was fast,” Keith rasped out. “Lance, let me down.”

 

“Hm.” Lance dropped his legs gently, turning to grab the bag from Croliat without sparing him a second glance. “Right. So, remember your promise.”

 

Keith raised an eyebrow at him, saying with great suspicion, “Yes? Why do you keep reminding me?”

 

Lance draped the bag over his shoulder so he could reach in with both hands, pulling out a wadded up napkin. “Because …” He unfolded the napkin, and the handful of aliens who had been pretending to not be watching were now shamelessly gaping at the two purple pills. “I want to have some _real wild fun_ tonight. Here.”

 

He shot the multitude a wink. The dozen or so onlookers whistled and shouted some truly horrendous flirtations. 

 

Keith ignored them, frowning at Lance. “Really? We’ve used those pills like … how many times in the last month?”

 

“But I want people to _hear_ _what you do to me_.” Lance had pitched his voice so low it was practically a purr.

 

Croliat cleared his throat loudly. “I’ll … I’ll keep watch. No one … no one will bother you two, I swear.”

 

“Great!” Lance said in a burst of cheerfulness, his hand wrapping around Keith’s waist, steering him toward the open red door. “We’ll compensate you now with this” — Lance dropped a couple of gems in Croliat’s hand — “and we’ll give you even more later. Well, Keith will. Don’t know if I’ll be … in the right mind to remember.”

 

With that, Lance pushed Keith into the room, already tugging on the laces of his freaking corset. The door slammed shut, and Keith swept him up into a kiss. 

 

Lance indulged him for a moment before saying, “Wait, wait, you know there’s a camera in here … Don’t want share that much with them — you naked is _all for me_.”

 

Keith pretended to look about wildly while Lance faked downing the pills. The room was richly furnished, with a big table and several ornate chairs. The bed was behind a beige screen; Keith ran over to the small bedroom area, digging through the nightstand and the small chest of drawers nearby. He found the camera beside a light on the wall, above that dresser. He glared into the lens before disconnecting it from its socket. 

 

Somewhere, a high-pitched whine broke out.

 

“Shut up, you bastards, you’re already getting more of a show than you deserve,” Keith muttered viciously. 

 

Lance laughed and then put a finger to his lips. He reached into the bag and pulled out Keith’s computer, placing it silently on the nightstand before pressing play. 

 

Keith’s voice rang out, “ _You’re sure?_ ”

 

Followed by Lance’s, “ _Ah, querido, I want a wild ride tonight_.”

 

While the recording played (which Keith didn’t actually have that hard of a time ignoring, considering that they were now officially about to _steal_ from _Keegin Dras_ ) Lance stripped off his clothes, necklace, and boots, leaving them tossed strategically over the furniture. Keith did the same with his (he used the red hair clip to pull his hair away in a more efficient low bun), though, unlike Lance, he had on his cleaned and stitched-up flightsuit beneath. 

 

To the loud sounds of their recorded selves passionately tossing clothes about, Lance reached into the bag and pulled it apart, revealing a hidden compartment with his flightsuit and several easy-to-carry satchels.

 

Somehow, seeing Lance dress himself in that flightsuit was worse than Keith’s own experience putting his on. His eyes zeroed in on the thick stitches near Lance’s shoulder. Lance had grown more muscular, and therefore the suit was more form-fitting, but Keith, for the first time in a long time, wasn’t interested in appreciating Lance’s body … Not when he was being so fiercely reminded of white walls, a training deck, food goop and … Lions. A found family.

 

Lance seemed to be having the same problem, his eyes gleaming for a moment before he blinked and tried to shrug off the pain. Keith lifted a hand, resting it on Lance’s neck, stroking his collarbone with his thumb for a brief moment.

 

Then it was quickly back to the task at hand.

 

Keith took the belt off his leather pants, using it to secure the satchels around his waist. Lance did the same with his computer and the small bottle of spray deodorant. No weapons, as they couldn’t have risked attempting to sneak them into the club.

 

They had no way to shoot or stab their way to freedom should anything go wrong.

 

Lance took the two pills he hadn’t swallowed, unscrewing the head of the spray bottle and dropping them in. They should start dissolving in the solution, the drug still potent even in a liquid-spray form. 

 

Keith examined the disconnected camera, trying to find the wire that must transmit the feed to the various control/security rooms. He nodded to himself once he spotted the dark yellow one that led away from the power source, into the wall and beyond.

 

When he turned around, Lance was standing on the other nightstand, already having removed the vent cover. Keith grabbed it from him, lowering the grate gently to the ground while Lance boosted himself up and in, his bare feet pedaling in the air a bit as he grunted from the effort. 

 

The sound was lost in the rising crescendo of recorded-Lance-and-Keith’s antics — and Keith could hear, through the flimsy wooden door, the disconcerting sounds of the salivating crowd. Recorded-Lance let out a particularly high gasp, followed by a stream of dirty talk that had Keith’s ears burning. A raucous cheer from the aliens outside covered his own climb up into the vent, aided by Lance.

 

That recording was one hour and twelve minutes long. They had to be back before it was over — couldn’t risk Croliat coming in to check on them once silence reigned.

 

Now that they were in the most challenging part of this heist, Keith’s brain narrowed down to one thing, and one thing only: _get it done._

 

The vent was a very tight fit for two of them, but it was only a means to an end. Lance found the grate that led into the inner infrastructure of the building. He unscrewed that one as well, with a tiny lock pick he’d hidden somewhere on his person. 

 

They were out of the vent and into the cold, narrow space between the walls and floors of the building. Keith spotted more of those dark yellow wires. He pointed at them, and then pointed up.

 

Lance nodded, unhooking his computer from his belt, staring at the blueprints he’d retrieved from a few old archives on the fringes of Whiero. Keith slid over to stare at the map as well. The vault was near the very top. The climb was going to _suck_ — but thankfully, they only had to scale up a few stories before they had access to the elevator shaft.

 

One really painful ascent later, Lance had another grate picked and sent aside, leaning out over and into the elevator shaft. He looked back at Keith, signalling with his fingers. _Five, four, three, two, one_ …

 

They both leapt, landing perfectly on the roof of the rising elevator. 

 

Keith’s hands and toes were aching from the _exactly-as-sucky-as-he’d-thought-it-would-be_ climb — getting hand and footholds on small protrusions and thick wires put a lot of weight on small points. He wrung out his hands, watching as Lance studied his pocket computer again. The elevator stopped a few times, but thankfully was rising to the top relatively steadily.

 

When they were over halfway to their destination, Lance reached over to hook his computer into the elevator’s basic programming; with a simple wire connection, he was in total control. Keith smiled roguishly as he reached over to unclip the spray bottle from Lance’s belt. The mixture should be ready by now.

 

They hit the floor just below the penthouse, and Lance pushed one button, holding the elevator in place. Keith had his hands gripping a small panel — and he lifted it very, very slowly. Through a gap that was no more than a sliver, he peeked.

 

One alien, dressed in a sharp suit, stood there, frowning and poking at the buttons. His back was to Keith. Perfect. Keith glanced up at Lance and held up his finger for _one_. Then he opened the panel further, sticking his hand in, spray bottle poised for action. It was better to get someone in the face with it, but it worked fairly well if the person was in an enclosed space.

 

Keith sprayed the air twice and pulled back in a flash, dropping the access panel closed silently.

 

Lance had his hand over his mouth, smothering giggles, his eyes crinkling at the corners.Keith rolled his eyes. Lance countered with a jerking-off gesture, pointing downwards, and more muffled laughter. Keith reached over to kick him (lightly) with a bare and dirty foot, but Lance just caught it, teased him with a quick tickle that had Keith’s mouth clamping shut abruptly — but his fiancé knew better and left it at that. Though he did fire off a victorious little smirk.

 

Enough time had passed to affect their victim, so Lance pushed a button and Keith could hear the doors open. The alien in the elevator let out a moan and rushed off, hopefully to the nearest bathroom to take care of the sudden, pressing problem he had. 

 

Keith tried to hide a smile from Lance, even though he knew it was worthless — he could feel Lance grinning at his back.

 

Once his face was under control, he pointed at the yellow wire he’d been keeping track of their whole journey upwards. He followed it with his eyes to an access box; Lance stood up, reaching up to open said box, making a soft noise of triumph when the wire plugged easily into his computer.

 

Keith shifted onto his feet to look over Lance’s shoulder at the camera feed. Lance flipped quickly between the hallway and the rooms of this floor until he saw the vault. One guard. The security camera room, also on this floor, had an alien, female, who was currently fiddling with the screens, clearly wondering why nothing was working. Lance quickly unplugged the wire and put it back.

 

_Two_ , Lance signed to Keith.

 

Perfectly manageable. Keegin Dras was rather confident, it seemed. _Nothing like someone thinking she's too good to take a fall,_ Keith thought to himself.

 

They needed to get back into that narrow crawlspace between the walls and ceiling, where all the wires and vents lived — and Lance already knew where to go, motioning to Keith to lean against the wall so Lance could climb up onto his shoulders and open the next vent cover. He disconnected his computer from the elevator — they had to move _fast_ in case someone pushed a button on another floor.

 

Once Lance was inside, he leaned over, extending a hand down to Keith. He jumped up, trying to use his feet to climb so Lance didn’t have to brace his entire weight alone.

 

Lance replaced the grate from the inside with some difficulty, and they were off — sixteen minutes into their recording by this point.

 

They hadn’t been able to practise any of this back home. They could only guess, and so while they were right on track so far, Keith refused to get optimistic.

 

Finding the security room was easy — the blueprints had been dead-on the entire way. But getting into the right position to spray the air right above the guard’s head was _not_ a walk in the park. 

 

But by the time Keith managed to stick his hand down, at the precise moment her focus was elsewhere, five minutes had passed. She took off running a minute after that. Lance dropped into the room, setting the cameras on an hour long loop, erasing a few seconds of footage that showed Keith’s hand, and Lance at the console. Once finished, he jumped right back, Keith hauling him up.

 

Next came the even more difficult task of spraying the guard by the vault. No vent or ceiling grate above his head. Lance had the brilliant idea of dropping his lock pick through the grate a few feet from the vault entrance — a small, inconspicuous object, the tiny clink of it hitting the floor extremely _loud_ in the otherwise dead silent corridor.

 

The guard came out to investigate, his wide eyes narrowed, his scaled hands pointing a rifle down the hallway. Keith took no chances — as soon as he was under them, Keith sprayed everything that was left in the bottle.

 

The guard was panting and confused inside of twenty seconds, and gone after another ten.

 

Lance finally let loose a quiet series of chuckles. “I feel kinda gross — you don’t think they all ended up in the same place, having some kind of orgy, right?”

 

Keith shrugged. “There are worse things we could’ve done.” Killing wasn’t convenient for this heist, but Keith knew _shit could and would happen._

 

Lance made a face. “Yeah, doesn’t make me feel any less scummy, but whatever. Let’s finish this.”

 

They both dropped down into the completely deserted hallway. The vault was directly behind them. Keith boosted Lance momentarily so he could replace the ceiling grate. Once that was done, Lance got to work posthaste, hooking up his computer to the access panel, making soft noises of the _hurry the hell up_ sort to the hacking program.

 

Keith kept watch, a knot of tension developing between his shoulders. By his estimate, they had roughly forty-five minutes to get this finished.

 

“Done!” Lance said, sounding relieved and eager.

 

The vault door was both huge and heavy, and between the two of them, straining and pushing, they managed to get it open just enough to slide in.

 

“ _Holy. Crap_.” Lance let out a hysterical little laugh. “That is … _a lot_.”

 

Keith nodded, gawking with unblinking eyes. The gems were organized in transparent drawers that lined the entire interior. He reached for one drawer, pulling it out. The amount of sparkling jewels caused his sight to blur a bit.

 

“ _Holy crap_ is right,” Keith breathed out, his mind whirring as leaving this world became a tangible reality — they could be _off planet_ in two weeks, maybe less. Keith and Lance could finally _get the hell out of dodge_. “Move it, we gotta load up.”

 

They opened up the satchels and started filling them to bursting. It took a little too much time for Keith’s comfort, but four full bags later they were out of there and closing the vault door behind them. 

 

Lance led Keith down the hall towards the garbage chutes by another door. Lance put down the bags and stared at said door suspiciously. “This … wasn’t in the blueprints. It was listed as a dead end, aside from the garbage stuff.”

 

Keith tossed the penultimate bag into the chute. “Okay. Who cares?” He bent to pick up the last bag, struggling to hold the chute open. He turned to complain at Lance for not helping … Except instead he ended up hissing, “Lance, _what the hell are you doing_?!”

 

Because Lance had opened the door with his computer’s hacking program, and was currently taking a peek inside.

 

His blue eyes widened hugely. And then he disappeared into the room.

 

Keith cursed vehemently under his breath as he gave the bag a fierce shove down and ran after Lance, shutting the door behind him.

 

“What in the —”

 

He stumbled both in words and over his feet as he saw what Lance had: a massive display of monitors, a display that vaguely reminded Keith of something he’d seen on the Castle …

 

“Keith, this is …” Lance started typing while Keith gaped at the screens — screens showing _outer space_. “This is satellite access. As in, satellites _outside of this planet._ Beyond the shields.” Lance typed some more, his breath coming out rapidly. “We could … _oh my god_.”

 

“What, Lance, _what_?” Keith had a feeling, a hope that he couldn’t vocalize.

 

Lance only spared him one quick glance, his face pale, his eyes still far too large.

 

“I can use Jacomir’s satellites to — Keith, do you want me to explain this, or do you want me to _just do it_! Cover me, holy crap, we can _get a signal out_ , we can actually send them our location, maybe, _oh my god_.”

 

Keith’s brain caught up, and he was whipping around, opening the door the slightest bit, trying to actually see the hallway in front of him, but his eyes were conjuring up images of _Shiro. Hunk. Pidge. Coran. Allura. Red. Blue. The Castle._

 

Behind him, Lance apparently figured out the buttons, muttering about how it wasn’t too far off from the stuff back on Earth. After a couple of minutes, he cleared his throat, but his voice still cracked as he spoke.

 

“This is Lance and Keith, guys, we’re alive, we’re … this place has no name, but the closest planet is Jacomir, and you can find us — we’re on their, like, prison of a world, but listen — it’s dangerous and low-tech. You gotta be really low-key, like Earth-level, when you get here, otherwise it’s bad news. We’re trying to leave — we’ll head straight for Jacomir, try and contact you there if we make it.” Lance repeated himself once more and then ended the transmission.

 

Keith was about to turn around when he saw _him_.

 

A tall alien emerged from the elevator. His eyes were high in his face, his form slender, partially covered in armour, and the rest in thick, form-fitting leather and knee-high boots. Brutally serrated blades at his hips. 

 

Blades that had ripped open the throat of one Galra, disembowelled another, and stabbed through the skull of the captain.

 

_ Akros. _

 

In some dim corner of his mind, Keith connected a few events, whispered words … Akros worked for Keegin Dras. But that didn’t matter — no, what mattered was _getting the fuck out of here_. He closed the door as quickly and quietly as he could — Akros had been looking toward the security office, nowhere near them. _Yet._

 

“Shut it down!” Keith whispered harshly to Lance.

 

Lance obeyed in an instant, though he had no idea what kind of threat they were facing. Keith frantically looked around the room. Thankfully, another vent grate, on the wall just to the left of the door, gave them a way out.

 

Keith leaned against that wall, jabbing his finger upwards. Lance hopped onto Keith’s shoulders, unscrewing it with his lock pick faster than ever. Keith caught the grate before it fell to the ground. Lance carefully slid into the vent, and Keith passed the grate up to him before jumping up, with Lance’s help, to slide in after him. As soon as Keith managed to squeeze in beside Lance, he helped hold the vent cover in place while Lance screwed it back in. 

 

They were crawling away slowly, Lance just ahead, when Keith heard the door open.

 

He grabbed Lance’s ankle, forcing him to freeze. Keith didn’t think they were visible from where they were, even if Akros decided to stare into the vent for some reason, but he didn’t dare turn around to confirm this. He was hardly daring to breathe.

 

“Dras, your guards seem to have decided tonight was the night for some Urus. And so did our latest business contact. He arrived early for our meeting and … Well, they are all having a good time in the bathroom.” Akros sounded mildly amused.

 

Lance trembled in Keith’s grip. He’d recognized the voice. Neither of them would ever forget it.

 

_“Is that so?”_ Dras’ voice was clipped, an echo of it across the communication link. _“How much did you see?”_

 

“Enough. I’ll have them all replaced. You can personally remove them once they’ve … burned it all out their system.”

 

“ _No need for my direct hand — a few weeks of duty down by the Red Rooms should teach them. Let them listen in on each and every depraved soul for a time_.”

 

Keith felt blind panic building up, fear lodging in his throat.

 

“For now, I shall remain here. My work in the Powder District is done for the night.”

 

“ _Thank you, Akros_.”

 

The transmission ended, the door opened, and then shut.

 

Lance melted. Keith all but collapsed. Both were still silent. After a few seconds, Lance started crawling again, finding the path back to the elevator shaft with little difficulty. They both stared at the computer — they had less than twenty minutes to make it.

 

Keith had already (sort of) planned for a rushed exit. He turned towards one of the sturdiest pipes, reaching for a thick blue wire next to it. He had no clue what this wire was for, but it didn’t matter — only that it was about as dense as a good piece of rope. He yanked it free of the access box, and then wrapped it around the pipe several times, knotting it firmly.

 

Lance stared at him. He shook his head once, his mouth pressed together in a thin line as if to say _no way, no how, you reckless idiot._

 

Keith ignored him, leaning out and grabbing the wire — climbing down the impromptu rope. The elevator was somewhere below them, but there was no way to tell when it would come back up again. 

 

A frustrated noise escaped Lance, but he moved to quickly screw the grate back in, and then follow after Keith, who slid further along the wire to allow Lance room.

 

Lance glared. Keith grinned back up at him, so much adrenaline in his veins right now from nearly running into Akros, Cold-Blooded Butcher, that he didn’t care how high up, how close they were to death, or how near to getting caught. He only cared about getting this damn heist _done_ , and they _almost had it._

 

He loosened his grip and started sliding down at breakneck speed. A high-pitched squeal, cut off practically as soon as it escaped him, and Lance began descending rapidly as well. 

 

They reached their original point of entry in seconds, crawling through it just as the elevator started moving up again. They climbed down the difficult, narrow path, this time taking greater risks, and dropping the last few metres, wincing when their legs and feet protested the impact, shaking out their burned, scraped hands. Without stopping, they crawled into the vent area, pausing only to cover their tracks, and by the time they were falling headfirst into the room, Keith was gasping.

 

Which was seamless because Recorded-Keith was desperate for air as well.

 

“ _Lance, you monster, I can’t …_ ”

 

Recorded-Lance let out a breathless laugh. “ _I’m … the monster? … Damn it, Keith … you’ve destroyed … me._ ” 

 

Lance collapsed into the room, replacing the grate, and then his hand was ripping at the zipper for his flightsuit. Keith grabbed the messenger bag, and they threw everything in that hidden compartment, including their flightsuits, as they got naked at light-speed.

 

They jumped into the bed, a whirlwind of motions, the blankets strewn everywhere along with their clothes. They were both sweating profusely, a bit scratched-up from their frantic climb down.

 

It was too perfect, really. Keith could hardly believe they’d pulled it off. In fact, he wouldn’t believe it until they had picked up the gems from the dumpster and driven back to Dagos with no one the wiser.

 

The recording ended just as Lance glanced over at him. Keith fumbled for the computer, turning it off and erasing the audio on the spot. Lance laughed, his voice as raspy as his recorded self’s had been.

 

“Can you believe we just did that?” Lance draped himself over Keith’s chest, their hearts pounding beneath their skin — Keith could feel them both straining under the weight of everything that had just happened. Cardiac arrest was a very real threat to him just then.

 

“No,” Keith admitted, feeling as wrecked as he sounded. “No, I can’t.”

 

Lance kissed him, and it wasn’t anything other than a _holy shit we’re alive_ celebration that Keith returned, passionate but brief.

 

A hard knocking on the door made them both jump. Suddenly, the outside world became very real — Keith’s ears registered applause, hooting, and growling beyond the room.

 

“McClains?” Croliat wheezed as he spoke. “I … can’t let you stay there any longer. Hour’s been up for a while …”

 

Disappointed hisses and curses followed Croliat’s words. Keith could hear the wolf-alien turning away from the door to shout them down. Lance grinned, out of breath but clearly ready to face the public.

 

“We’ll be right out,” Lance yelled, leaning over Keith to do it. “Just, uh, need to find my clothes.”

 

_“You don’t have to!”_ came the catcall of someone that pressed in close to the door, met with excited jeering and cheers.

 

Keith rolled his eyes and began his own hunt. It took them only a minute to get dressed (though they didn’t look anywhere near as put together as they had earlier in the evening — their make-up smudged, their hair sweaty and clumped together, their clothes dishevelled). Keith shoved his red hair clip and scarf into the bag. Lance didn’t bother with his corset, shoving that in their messenger bag as well, his royal blue shirt buttoned unevenly. He leaned in to double-check their belongings.

 

“Computers, deodorant … water. Water — gimmie some of that,” Lance begged, chugging almost as soon as Keith passed a canteen over. He gave a satisfied breath once he finished, sending Keith a wink even as he reached to grip his hand tightly. A fine tremor in his limbs told Keith everything — Lance was starting to freak out, but he was masking it well.

 

“I think we can handle a _part two_ at home, without an audience,” he said, and while his tone was all teasing, his mouth and eyes were serious. _We need to talk._

 

“Didn’t I just destroy you?” Keith asked in a low, mocking voice as he nodded. _Absolutely_.

 

_“Do it again!”_ came a growling prompt from their avid fans.

 

Lance waited for Keith to take one last survey of the room before nodding. Then he marched over and swung open the door. “Croliat, well done!” He gave the wolf-alien the last of the gems they’d brought with them. “I hope it was as fun for you as it was for me?” 

 

Keith came up behind Lance, wrapping a possessive arm around his waist as Croliat started to answer. The alien abruptly shut his mouth and choked out, “I, I … yes.”

 

A few hands ventured to touch — apparently not having seen Lance all but break a wrist or Keith knock someone flat on their face on the dance floor — and so Keith snapped the finger closest to him. That took care of the rest. Laughter and whistling greeted the hoarse yell of pain. More applause for Lance and Keith, which Lance preened under, even as he trembled in Keith’s grip.

 

“ _Home, now_ ,” Keith said into Lance’s ear, loud enough to be heard by the others.

 

They marched through the now two dozen strong group that had listened in, maybe even got off while they did so (Keith was astonished to find he really _did not give a crap,_ not after what had just happened all the way at the top of this building).

 

Lance and Keith strolled out of the club with their heads high, Lance winking at the bartender, who winked back, and Keith glaring at a few leering faces. 

 

When they reached the outside, they walked leisurely, Lance putting a little hitch to his step, and he kept the act up until they were back by their truck — they became all-business once they were sure no one was watching. 

 

Keith ran towards the alleyway filled with garbage, Lance hot on his heels. It was relatively easy to spot their satchels, resting on top of the trash that came from the Dras’ building. They’d investigated this alley weeks ago, under the cover of night — no cameras, only a guard patrol that came around once an hour or so. Assuming they were on time, that patrol had gone by twenty minutes before. Keith climbed to the top, ignoring the slimy, gritty things that his hands touched, and then tossed the heavy bags down towards Lance.

 

He jumped down and grabbed two, just as Lance had, and they rushed back to the truck. After throwing them in the back, tossing a tarp over everything, they got back inside and gunned it out of there.

 

It wasn’t until they were out of sight of the unforgiving Whiero City that Lance finally ventured to speak.

 

“I … I don’t know what to process first.”

 

“I can tell you what I’m thinking,” Keith offered as he drove, keeping his eyes focused on the desert in front of him. “And that’s that whatever happens with that message, happens. But we need to make sure Akros _never_ has a reason to deal with us.”

 

Lance nodded vigorously, his voice hoarse, “Okay. Let’s deal with that then. _What the actual fuck_?”

 

“I should’ve realized.” Keith slammed one hand on the steering wheel. “They talked about Dras getting to our crash site first, and Akros … Akros was …”

 

“Our lovely introduction to the citizens of this rock, yeah, I was there.” Lance scrubbed at his face with both hands, grimacing when he obviously smelled the garbage on them. “Ugh. Okay. I think we’re in the clear. No cameras saw us. One loose cable in a random elevator shaft isn’t enough to … Plus, we have a pretty damn solid alibi. Croliat and like twenty other people can confirm.”

 

Keith nodded along. “Right. We did this. Lance — we actually did it.”

 

A pause, then Lance let out a whoop. “Right! One nearly-pissing-myself-from-fear moment aside, this was like, one of the _coolest_ things we’ve ever done! _Ever_.”

 

Keith followed Lance’s lead, forcing down any fear he felt at the sight of Akros, at the thought of that murderer finding them … 

 

“Get my computer out — playlist five, track four.”

 

Lance did as he was told, and he pumped the volume up as loud as it would go. He started laughing as the first guitar riffs rung out. He started singing along, shouting out his glee — maybe changing the lyrics a bit with a sly wink towards Keith, who grinned razor sharp back.

 

“ _Take me down to the paradise city where the grass is green and the boys are pretty — oh won’t you please take me home!_ ”

 

*******

 

When Yathir came down the stairs the next morning, he was faced with two broadly smiling cowboys and their plentiful ill-gotten gains. Keith couldn’t help but laugh at the look of shock. 

 

“Didn’t expect us to survive?” Keith asked, leaning back against Lance and lifting one leg up onto the stool, lounging as though he still wasn’t thrumming with energy. He had slept like the dead the night before, and had awoken both aching and buzzing from the high of a job damn well done.

 

“Yeah, Yathir, that ain’t cool — especially since we brought you back a present!” Lance nudged the sack of gems on the counter, half spilled out and glittering brilliantly in the morning sun.

 

“You’re both insane,” Yathir said flatly. But soon he started smiling as well. “And I suppose that works in your favour. I knew you would survive.” His calm confidence was so reassuring that Keith’s smile grew impossibly wider. Yathir came down the rest of the steps, eyes blinking rapidly as he took in the expensive mess on his bar. “I’m just rather shocked that your take is … If you’re giving me a quarter of what you earned, how did you even get _this_ much out?”

 

“Because we are _champions_!” Lance yelled jubilantly, standing up on his bar stool. “We have enough for a ship. We have enough for passcodes, for ID plates, for a freaking _royal escort,_ and I’m gonna buy me that sniper rifle I’ve been eying up and holy crap, Yathir. _We are done._ ”

 

He bowed low and Keith, feeling Lance’s happiness like the tangible, contagious thing that it was, reached up to pull at his shirt, yanking him into an awkward, amazing upside-down kiss.

 

“An entire week of Urus, and you can still do this? You two should be studied in a lab,” Yathir said wryly. He started gathering up the gems, as Lance pulled up and away from Keith and then dropped back down into this seat. “What are your plans for today?”

 

“Meeting up with Brisha and Zan at Jorlack’s to brag about our night — the party portion, not the stealing part,” Lance elaborated. He brought a hand down onto Keith’s thigh. “Kinda wanna do that again, sometime, without the threat of a massive theft over our heads. But, uh, not at any place Dras owns.”

 

“Maybe we’ll find somewhere on Jacomir,” Keith suggested, though this fantasy came with a twist at his heart. 

 

Lance nodded. “Now there’s a happy thought.”

 

Yathir packed away the bag and leaned into the counter. “Just lay low for now, though, don’t —”

 

“We’re not going to go flashing this money around,” Keith said, his hand falling to squeeze Lance’s. “We’ll work a few more jobs, hang around for at least a couple of weeks — buy what we need to leave slowly.”

 

“We talked it over and we want to make sure you get everything we owe you, Yathir.” Lance smiled sadly. “Even though it won’t be enough, probably will never be enough.”

 

Yathir shook his head. “I didn’t do much. Don’t act like I’m a saviour. I gave you two a roof and food — you went out there and made your fortune on your own. Kept yourselves alive.”

 

“Look, you can’t tell us to not be grateful,” Keith argued. “Because having a safe home base — that … That isn't something you can put a price on. It’s not something you had to do, I don’t care what we did for you out there in the desert. And I know you won’t come with us …”

 

“No. No, I won’t. This is my place. I’m well suited for it. You two … You two need to leave. You’ve carved your route home, and now I want you to take it. Two weeks seems adequate time to me. No longer.” Yathir reached out with two hands, ruffling Lance’s hair, patting Keith’s shoulder.

 

Lance nodded, his eyes gleaming. “Okay. Okay, you got it. But …” He cleared his throat. “Today, we’re celebrating — let’s go, Brisha and Czanliu are probably already waiting for us.”

 

“Go, have fun, and do not get drunk,” Yathir cautioned. “I say this only because last time you tried to climb into your room from the outside —”

 

Keith laughed as Lance waved Yathir off. “Yeah, yeah, at least Keith broke my landing.”

 

“And I managed to get in no problem after that, while you had your walk of shame through the front,” Keith reminded him smugly as he pulled on his leather jacket and made sure his knifes were strapped into place.

 

Lance tugged on his own jacket, adjusting his gun holsters as he grinned. “I had a great view of your ass while you did too. ‘Twas a good night, bruises aside.”

 

Yathir laughed at their backs as they left to make their way to Hutton. Parking in their usual alleyway and walking across the street toward Jorlack’s saloon, Keith stared for a moment. “Huh. We … we’re actually leaving soon.”

 

Lance grabbed his hand, tugging him along. “I know. Just … let’s have ourselves a good time, and do all the emotional crap later, okay? This is gonna get complicated, I just know it — let’s not, for now?”

 

Keith squeezed his fingers, agreeing wordlessly.

 

They walked in together, and were set upon by Brisha and Czanliu straightaway. A few jeers and cheers came from the lunch crowd.

 

“Uh, what?” Lance asked confusedly.

 

Gunthra pouted at them, walking past and giving Lance a lingering pat on the head. “I’m so disappointed in you, boys. I’ve been trying to catch you in the act for what feels like _years_. Last week’s card game was not nearly good enough.” She laughed boisterously when Lance and Keith stared blankly after her as she made her way out the door.

 

Czanliu shook his head, grinning as he explained, “Croliat came by for a quick hand-off with Gunthra — bragged to Caspor about how he spent the night getting paid to listen to you —” 

 

“Stop.” Keith held up a hand, and then massaged his face with it while glaring at Lance between his fingers. “Sometimes I wonder why the hell I let you talk me into these things.”

 

_“Shit, it is true!”_ came a gleeful shout from somewhere.

 

Lance walked over to the bar with a happy hop to his stride. “Because I am full of good ideas! And that was a _very_ good idea.”

 

Brisha sat beside Lance, poking him gently in the arm. “You are more shameless than some of Zan’s co-workers. I cannot get over this.”

 

The bartender, an older woman named Rynsu, passed Lance a steaming cup of tea. “Drink and shut up. You’re too loud after the night you’ve had.”

 

Keith snorted as Lance stuck his tongue out at her back. Keith was pretty sure that they were going to be ridiculed about this for the next two weeks — and he was completely fine with that being the worst outcome of their heist.

 

Zan clapped Keith on the back as they both sat down, Keith leaning into Lance instinctually. Czanliu's smile somehow managed to be simultaneously teasing and appreciative. “Turns out I was right about your stamina. _Impressive_. Brisha, we should’ve put some money on this …”

 

Keith whipped around to glare at her as she chuckled. “Ah, but I knew that they would be fine — didn’t I tell you about the whole week they spent —”

 

“Well, see if I ever share _anything_ with you ever again,” Keith groused while Lance curled towards him, laughing into his shoulder.

 

Keith felt himself relaxing, the high from the night before fading in favour of soft, easy warmth — Lance against his side, Brisha and Zan mocking them endlessly.

 

He was ready to let this all go, but an edge of bittersweetness soured his joy … Lance had said he didn’t regret their crash landing onto this nightmare of a planet, and Keith had agreed. He _still_ felt that way — too many good memories of Lance, sprinkled with moments of time spent with Yathir, Brisha, Zan, and Wesdru … 

 

“Hm, maybe Keith is a little tired,” Brisha said, patting him consolingly on the back. “Look at that dazed look on his face.”

 

“Hey, don’t get on his case for daydreaming about me,” Lance defended him, cradling his warm mug in both hands. “Keith fulfilled his duties perfectly adequately last night. One might even say he _rose_ to the occasion.”

 

Brisha and Zan both groaned, though Brisha ended on a giggle.

 

Keith shook himself back into the present. He was about to make a joke, to try for a horrible pun of his own that would get Lance to snort out the big mouthful of tea he had just taken in, but he never had a chance — right in that moment, a terrible silence fell over the bar. A series of shadows darkened the room as several people filed into Jorlack’s. One of the saloon owner’s minions ran to the back, chattering Jorlack’s name in frantic fear.

 

At the head of the group was Akros.

 

Lance put down the teacup. It rattled a bit, spilling over onto the counter. He turned to face the alien, the right-hand man of Keegin Dras. Keith’s hands dropped directly to the hilt of his blades. He kept his face as impassive as possible, even as his heart made a decent effort at pounding straight out of his chest.

 

Brisha and Czanliu clearly knew who this was — they straightened, and their own hands fell to whatever concealed weapons they had on them.

 

Akros surveyed the entire saloon. He signalled with one hand and his group fanned out, taking up positions near the various patrons. Nobody breathed for a moment. 

 

Keith’s eyes darted towards all the massive thugs, at their bulky coats, clearly concealing weapons and who knew what else. The exits were covered. They would have to fight their way out … and they might not win, not if Akros joined the fray.

 

Jorlack emerged from the back room, a pistol in one seven-fingered hand. “Akros. You better have a damn good reason for showing your face here.”

 

“Yes, that I do,” Akros said cordially before facing Lance and Keith. “McClains. That transmission was a mistake.”

 

The bottom dropped out of Keith’s stomach, but he only jutted out his chin and said, “What transmission? I’m sorry, but who are you?” His mind kept playing the sound of that Galra dying, his entrails spilling out onto the desert floor.

 

“You verged on getting away clean,” Akros went on, ignoring his questions, dismissing him entirely. “But a silly attempt to contact whatever outside allies you have — such sentimentality has cost you.”

 

Lance unholstered his own gun, and he didn’t flinch when several others were pointed his way from various corners of the room. “Again, we don’t know who the hell you are, buddy, but no one wants trouble here.” Keith was so damn proud of Lance, of the calm, vaguely irritated way he managed to speak, no hint of the terror he must be feeling — terror that Keith felt down to his bones.

 

Akros’ cold eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “Certainly. But trouble is what you sought when you went to the Red Dawn last night. I don’t care how many people saw or heard your mating — your defiance was left behind on our communication link. Keegin Dras does not appreciate defiance. Or imbalance to this world’s order, such as it is.”

 

Before Lance or Keith could say another word, Akros turned to point a long finger at Jorlack. “Did you tell them about the transmitter?”

 

Jorlack snorted. “These two are mercs, and like most mercs I hire, I tell them about the job and I leave them to it. I don’t know and I don’t care what they get up to in their spare time. So no, Akros, I didn’t tell them. But they got one past you and Dras?” A bright green glance towards Lance and Keith, a smirk shot their way. “They’re even more capable than I realized. Or Dras is slipping.”

 

Akros tilted his head in acknowledgement. “You think you’re ready to take her on?”

 

“I think that I want her to keep her fingers out of my town. I think you need to go before I shoot you and send _your_ fingers to her as message to _stay the hell out of my business_.”

 

A small fight broke out between one of Akros’ men and Jorlack’s customers. Akros’ thug — he looked like a cross between a Sedluni and one of the carrion lizards out in the desert — tossed the patron over the table, upending it the process. But despite the sound of breaking class, of everyone jumping to their feet, drawing weapons, not a single shot was heard. 

 

The tension grew. Keith kept his hands on his blades; Lance had his pistol cocked at his hip. _We can’t win_ , Keith thought grimly, _but you’re going to get a few holes ripped into you before we go down._

 

A beat. Keith’s heart yearned to get Lance _out_ , but there was no way — and he was selfishly glad to have him here, at his side, even in this. Even in certain death.

 

Akros motioned at his men to leave, and they did so, single file out of the front door. Keith didn’t relax, not even fractionally, though Lance’s shoulders lowered the slightest bit.

 

Akros smiled at everyone, paying special attention to Jorlack, Lance, and Keith. “We’ll see if you have the strength to withstand what comes next. Dras was kind enough to provide you with this single warning — further rebellion will be met with death, and if you’re lucky, it will be swift.” He turned and disappeared out the door. 

 

For a couple of minutes, no one spoke. 

 

Then, Jorlack turned to his customers. “You want to stay and listen to our plans for ‘further rebelliousness,’ you’re welcome. If you don’t have the stones to face Dras, then get out.”

 

Within ten seconds, no one was left other than Jorlack’s crew, Lance, Keith, Brisha, and Czanliu.

 

Lance lifted a shaking hand to his face. “ _Coño, estaba seguro que_ … Shit, I was so sure that was it. _Fuck_.”

 

Keith stood up from the stool, a hand reaching out grip Lance’s shoulder as he spoke to Jorlack. “You’ve been doing something to piss Dras off?” That definitely wasn’t just about Lance and Keith, and he was oddly grateful that Dras seemed to have snapped for more reasons than their transmission — that risky, apparently incredibly dangerous transmission (which Keith couldn’t bring himself to regret).

 

“I’ve been slowly gaining my own power base — I’m not interested in her vermin-infested city, but she doesn’t believe me,” Jorlack said, shoving his gun back in its holster. He walked past them, staring up at the ceiling, at his entire saloon, his back to the front door. “I’ve got stakes in Ithorla and Byothal now. She seems to think I’ll do something as stupid as unite the towns against her. I just want to earn my keep and retire in peace. Like your friend Yathir has.”

 

Lance and Keith exchanged glances. Lance stood up abruptly, dislodging Keith’s hand, starting to head towards the exit.

 

“We need to check on Yathir, if Akros came here, he must’ve —” Keith’s blood ran cold — _of course_ , they must’ve gone to Dagos first, to the _inn_ … 

 

Brisha, who had been standing by the window since Akros had departed, interrupted them. “Lance — Yathir, _he’s here_.” Lance took a few steps toward her, clearly ready to dart out to him.

 

Everyone jumped as Yathir burst through the door, looking filthy, blood pouring from a jagged wound on his temple. His shout was deafening.

 

“ _Everybody out! There are bombs! OUT!_ ”

 

By the time the last word was screamed, Jorlack and his people had stampeded towards Yathir, shoving past him and out onto the street. Keith leapt off his stool as Yathir grabbed Brisha and Lance, the two people closest to him. “Now! You have maybe five seconds —”

 

Five seconds was both right and wrong.

 

The first bomb exploded right then.

 

_ **Five.** _

 

Keith only knew searing pain for that next second — but he managed to open his eyes, frantic, desperate to move — to find Lance …

 

_ **Four.** _

 

His vision blurred from smoke, from scorching heat as flames licked out towards him, but he could see that Yathir had Lance in a firm grip, and _good_ , that was exactly as it should be … _Lance, away, alive_. Brisha was screaming for her brother — Keith could just make out Czanliu crawling out of the disaster, and Brisha dragging him in, pulling him away as she cried over him.

 

_ **Three.** _

 

His side was on fire, and he knew there was blood coming from somewhere, since his hands kept slipping as he tried to sit up — he slid out from under a burning pile of wood, stumbling, falling to his knees, coughing. Red splattered onto the scorched floor beneath him. Keith felt numbness spread along his limbs — his body going into shock from whatever lethal wound he had, but he couldn’t stop trying to reach Lance — had to try until his last breath …

 

In that same moment, Lance broke free from Yathir.

 

_ **Two.** _

 

“ _No_ ,” Keith moaned hoarsely, his eyes now filled with tears as the smoke made everything harder — seeing, breathing, yelling at Lance to _stay away, get back._

 

Lance reached him, his jaw clenching, his eyes fierce and burning to rival the fire around them — he lifted Keith, tripping backwards, and they fell just short of the door. Lance cried out; Keith couldn’t help him, even as Lance pushed himself up, leaning over Keith to pull, trying so hard to save him, and Keith just wanted to gather enough air to scream at him to _give up_ and _get out_.

 

_ **One.** _

 

And then the last of the bombs went off.

 

******

_ Two Weeks Later and Approximately Two Thousand Light-Years Away _

******

 

It was Pidge’s night to watch over the probes.

 

They were her design, but Hunk had added some pretty cool improvements over the last few months. Boosted signals, heat sensors, and thrusters that kicked in when obstacles were detected. Pidge tossed in some encryption and cloaking, and now they were basically mass-producing them with materials the Olkari generously provided.

 

Blinking beacons scattered across the universe, searching for just two beings in that infinite vastness.

 

Pidge pulled her hair back in a ponytail. Lance had tugged on her bangs a lot, before, with a fond smile on his face. _“I miss braiding my hermanita’s hair. Don’t suppose you’d grow out yours so I can play?”_ Maybe she’d partially done it for him. Maybe some stupid, little kid part of her wanted to give this to Lance, even if he wasn’t here to see it.

 

“Hey, do you mind some company?”

 

She shrugged. “Depends, are you going to try and reprogram Rover to sing _99 Bottles_ again?”

 

Matt laughed at her, moving to stand in front of the communication array Coran, Hunk, and Pidge had designed to take in the vast amount of information being sent their way by the probes. “Nah, just wanted to try my hand at clearing up some of the static you’ve been getting. Won’t turn any of it off, promise.”

 

“Sure, go to town.” She reached over to touch his hand, clutching it in hers tightly, feeling the rough callouses from his staff — his weapon of choice. Because her nerdy, gentle big brother had _multiple weapons_ he was skilled at now.

 

She smiled at him and let go of that pain — she would have taken Matt back in any way, shape, or form, and this way was definitely not the worst she had imagined.

 

Comfortable silence fell between them.

 

Each time it was Pidge’s turn to monitor the frequencies, her mind would go back to the beginning, retrace the well-worn memory paths of the past months. Trying to find something she’d missed. Some small clue, or glaringly obvious hint, that would lead to Lance and Keith, alive and home.

 

She curled up in her chair, ignoring Matt’s fussing with the equipment, his muttering about _inherent problematic ranges_ , and _subsonic interference._

 

Roughly eleven months ago, on a boring, routine reconnaissance mission, Lance and Keith had disappeared from the Castle’s scans. There one second, nothing the next. There had been a Galra ship — _perfectly_  cloaked. It appeared just long enough for them to notice — and then it opened a wormhole and was gone. 

 

Allura had been calm enough to send a warning to the Yujin that the Galra were already prepping to invade their system before she devoted her entire attention to getting Lance and Keith back. The first thing she did was start adjusting their systems to find hints of the ship. 

 

The trail could not be easily followed, but between Allura, Pidge, Hunk, and Coran, with the tracking system they’d been perfecting with Olkari tech, they managed to pick up the subtlest traces. They reopened that same wormhole, chasing down the ship — they’d lost it _once_ , and then picked the ship up again when it darted back into their sensors’ range.

 

Pidge remembered how sure they’d been that finding Lance and Keith was inevitable. No one doubted. But the Galra spies — their cloaking shields had been powerful, and Pidge resented greatly that the Galra had managed to top her in this. 

 

Her team had shot the ship down with supreme difficulty, boarding and finding the spies with grim smirks — in the few minutes they had lost sight of them, Lance and Keith had been transferred to another ship.

 

_ “They are gone. To one of the hundreds of prison transports. Perhaps, if they survive, you may find one of them as another Champion? Would you not be proud, Black Paladin?”  _

 

Shiro had not liked that. Shiro had lifted the spy commander off his feet by use of his Galra-made arm. Allura had to talk him down from choking the life out of him.

 

Pidge had never seen Shiro that upset. It had scared her.

 

And then things had only gotten worse.

 

The Galra spies had no intel to give them, and by that point, any other trails had dissipated into the nothingness of space.

 

So, they had done the only thing they could think of to do — they started raiding Galra prisons. 

 

Pidge found the first — the one circling a planet the Galra had conquered recently; they’d been planning to liberate it soon, but now, without Voltron … 

 

Ryner gathered up enough Olkari ships to make them formidable, even without their massive weapon, and they launched an all-out assault. Keith and Lance hadn’t been there, but while they had the element of surprise, Pidge sent off a virus that spread throughout their entire prison system — every ship, every planetary detention centre and camp. They’d locked her out quickly, but too late.

 

That’s how she found her father.

 

And that’s also how Pidge had discovered that Lance and Keith’s prison transport had never made it to its final destination.

 

Shiro hadn’t even hesitated to order their fleet (the Olkari and the Kelik, another race that was nearby and opposing the Galra in their sector) straight to the prison with Pidge’s dad on it.

 

Pidge hated herself sometimes, for the relief she felt in finally getting her father back, because if Lance and Keith hadn’t … But she couldn’t help feeling grateful for the horrifying circumstances that led to having her family, the family that had loved her since birth, here on the Castle. She’d hardly allowed her dad more than two metres from her the first few weeks. 

 

Her father knew all about Voltron from the whispers of the prisoners, but learning she’d been the Green Paladin … That had been a shock.

 

_ “Katie,” Sam Holt breathed out. “You can’t be … But you have been —” _

_ “This whole time, dad, I’ve been searching,” Pidge said, holding one of his hands between her own. “And I’ve been fighting. I did this for you and Matt, and Mom back home. But now, I’ve got to do it for the universe. After all, we live here, right? Unless you’ve successfully proven the ability to travel between parallel —” _

_ “Not yet, no,” Sam said with a faint smile. “But, I can’t … I can’t quite accept this. I understand it. I will not even dream of trying to stop you. Just keep in mind that your dad isn’t as spry as he used to be.” _

_ Her dad was actually pretty muscular right now, lithe and scarred. The work camp section of the prison had him physically labouring by day, with breaks to program and code during his meals — his mind and his body constantly occupied except for the six hours of sleep he was allowed per night. _

_ “Your brother — he’s been with a rebel faction.” _

_ “We know that already,” Pidge interjected, her frustration obvious. “I just haven’t been able to track them down — the uniforms weren’t anything —” _

_ Her dad ran his free hand through her lengthening hair. “I can help you. I’ve been feeding them information whenever I can. I have a way to contact them …” _

_ And that’s when Sam showed her the symbol of the Blade of Marmora. _

 

Finding Matt had been shamefully easy after that. 

 

Matt was hardened and burned, permanently changed. He stared at her with eyes far older than his age, wearing mismatched armour and holding a pointed metal staff like he’d been born to use it.

 

He’d said, _“Katie, your hair is a freaking disaster, what even?”_

 

Pidge knew her brother wasn’t too far gone then.

 

_ Kolivan had stepped forward, offering his rather blunt apologies. “We did not know that he was within our ranks. Communication between cells is sparse — it is how we avoid detection. This particular group was a fringe element with many non-Galra. We have not heard from them for many years.” _

_ “I understand,” Pidge croaked out. _

_ “But we are keeping all aware of your missing Paladins now,” Kolivan said, crossing his arms. “If we find any hint …” _

_ “Yes,” Allura cut in, leading Kolivan away so Pidge and Matt could have time to themselves. “In regard to that, any information you have …” _

_ “You’ve grown maybe an inch,” Matt said, and he reached for her, yanking her into a tight hug. The hard plains of her brother’s torso were unfamiliar, but Pidge didn’t care. This was the same kind of hug he’d always given her. She cried into his chest as he said, his voice cracking at last, “You’re gonna be short forever, wow — even months in space can’t cure your vertical ineptitude.” _

_ When they left the Blade of Marmora base, Pidge had her family virtually complete again. Her mother, back on Earth, safe.  _

_ Lance and Keith … They were her priority now. Her only priority. She couldn’t cope with more of her loved ones lost — Katie “Pidge Gunderson” Holt of Voltron would not allow it. _

 

“Hey, Katie,” Matt said quietly. “You got a screwdriver with the —”

 

Pidge passed him the tool he needed, her eyes never moving from the frequency waves.

 

“Great, thanks.” His hand reached over, running over her head gently. Pidge felt her eyes tear up. Lance had done that to her all the time, and since it had reminded her strongly of Matt, in the best way, she’d only ever given token protests.

 

Now, Matt doing the same gesture reminded her of Lance; the pain was too similar, and she was so _tired_ of hurting.

 

Her brain tugged her into more bittersweet memories — Matt approaching the Red and Blue Lions, dormant, collapsed in sleeping poses. Until Matt had brushed at one of Blue’s massive paws, and the Lion had woken up, sending Matt backwards onto his butt.

 

_ Shiro took in a breath, staring at all of them. “I spoke with Allura last night, and we both agree — we can’t go on like this anymore. It’s been over a month. The Galra are going to find us soon, and they will attack us with everything they got.” _

 

_ They couldn’t stand against the Galra for long. Pidge’s virus uncovered that the Galra Empire’s efforts to search for the Red and Blue Paladins had been largely abandoned; instead, they wanted to focus all their attention on attacking the weakened Voltron team.  _

 

_ Hunk recoiled. “We can’t. Blue, and Red … they’re bonded to Lance and Keith, and Shiro, that’s as good as …” Hunk had to stop, had to wipe tears from his face, and Pidge understood what he couldn’t finish saying — getting new Paladins felt like giving up. It felt like admitting that Lance and Keith might be … gone for good. _

_ Pidge swallowed her own tears, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “Shiro, we have the fleets. The Yujin are willing to join us. And the Kelik now, and Rolo and Nyma have contacted us — a few mercs are in line with getting us intel and …” Pidge stopped talking when Shiro held up a hand. _

_ “It’s all a help, but it’s not enough, Pidge. We need Voltron.” _

_ “He’s right,” Allura said, quiet and sad. “We cannot last without it. I’m sorry.” _

_ Coran put a hand on her back, on Shiro’s, his eyes opaque with worry. But he said nothing. _

_ “You’re saying we can’t look for them — you’re saying we leave them wherever they are, even if they’re hurt, or, or, being tortured or —” Pidge began, angry and afraid. _

_ Shiro lost it. _

_ “We don’t have a choice anymore! We can’t keep looking for them and looking for them, to the exclusion of our duties as Voltron! The whole universe can’t wait for us to find them! And if we die, then we definitely can’t find them!” He had his hands clenched into fists as well, and they shook hard. “I’m as broken up about this as all of you, but Lance and Keith need us to keep fighting — we need to survive long enough to get them back.” _

_ And Red had uncurled from her position, her eyes glowing, locking in on Shiro. _

 

Shiro's eyes had welled-up, even though he did a good job of hiding it. Allura spoke with the Black Lion, serious, respectful, and Shiro and the Black Lion had a long session alone … 

 

By the end, they had Voltron back. 

 

The Blade of Marmora reached out shortly after the first battle they had with the Galra Empire since losing Lance and Keith and regaining a full fighting force. The Blades passed them information from within High Command — the Galra were under the assumption that Lance and Keith had been found, or that they had recruited new Paladins, but they were uninterested in which outcome it was.

 

In other words, they were completely recommitted to taking down Voltron. Zero investment in finding that lost prison transport.

 

Pidge knew it would have been easier if the Galra had been relentless in seeking Lance and Keith. Having both the Empire and Team Voltron searching for them had increased the odds … Now, it was officially just them. And they couldn’t even do it full-time.

 

She shifted, feeling sleepy as she listened to Matt tinker. To keep herself awake, she brought up a few security feeds. Shiro on the training deck, practising Tai chi. Keeping himself focused. Centred.

 

Allura on the main bridge, scouring maps, taking notes, a couple of mice scurrying to bring her food. Coran was nearby, and he was communicating with someone — maybe with the Blade of Marmora. They tended to use Coran as main contact. Pidge wasn’t sure how that started, but she accepted it without comment.

 

Hunk was in the hanger bay, taking routine maintenance of Blue, like he always did, every week. Pidge wondered if Hunk’s bond with Blue was now rivalling his connection to Yellow. Matt often joined Hunk, his own link with Blue apparent, but Matt knew and respected that this was Hunk’s way of reaching out to Lance. 

 

Red didn’t let anyone close other than Shiro — Hunk had learned that quickly and brutally.

 

“Oh, hey, guys,” Matt said, drawing Pidge’s eyes down towards him. The rest of the Castle mice were chattering around him, poking into the wiring curiously. “No, won’t be needing your help this time. Thanks though.”

 

Pidge was about to suggest that actually, yes, she could use their help reaching that damn wrench Hunk had managed to lodge way behind the console in an unreachable corner … But then the frequency wave she had been staring out for hours _changed_.

 

She flew out of her seat, smashing the buttons on the console, tracking which probe — they relayed signals to each other now, traveling at the speed of light ( _so slow_ , but they were searching the _entire universe_ ). Pidge had to bounce around probes to find the source, and once she did, she brought it up instantly, cranking the volume to the max.

 

Static, then, _“ … and Keith … this place … Jacomir, and you can find us … dangerous and low-tech… get here, otherwise it’s bad news … trying to leave … contact you there if we … Again, this is Lance and Keith …”_

 

The mice took off running, Matt jumping up, his arms already reaching for her. “ _Quiznak_ , Katie, you did it!” 

 

Pidge didn’t care to acknowledge that right then; she was too busy slamming down onto the Castle wide comm system, yelling at the top of her lungs, _“Code Red-Blue! Code Red-Blue! Guys, guys, we’ve found them!”_ She choked a bit, her glasses fogging up — when had she started crying? “ _We have coordinates. We’ve found them_.”

 

Matt finally got her full attention as he wrapped her up tightly in his arms. She allowed herself the comfort, but only for a minute. She could hear frantic shouting echoing in the halls, Allura’s voice ringing through the comm. _“Pidge, are you sure?! No, of course, you are — Paladins, report to the bridge! Suit up!”_

 

“You heard the princess,” Pidge said, leaning back and wiping at her face. “We gotta suit up.”

 

Matt smiled down at her. “Maybe for the last time for me — and I’m totally okay with that. Blue is amazing, but I can tell that Lance is her Paladin, her one and only.”

 

“And Red is impatient as hell with Shiro, so I’m sure this’ll be a relief for him too,” Pidge tried to say jokingly, but all she got was more tears clogging her throat. She’d never been so prone to crying before. She would have to kick both Lance and Keith’s asses for doing this to her. She had plenty of new moves to show them. 

 

In fact, Team Voltron was tougher than ever before — these last few months had forced them to train and fight harder, and they could probably stand toe-to-toe with Sendak and take him down within an eighth of a second.

 

She wondered if she could finally take Keith in a sparring match. Or if Lance would be behind enough to go back to his daily training regimen from the first year … But no, Pidge shoved all the theorizing aside — she didn’t have to _imagine_ these things anymore. She could go and _find them out for herself_.

 

Matt had taken off running, his hand wrapped around hers and dragging her along.

 

Her grin could not be contained, and when she reached the bridge, seeing all of them in their armour, faces all but glowing. Allura greeted Matt and Pidge, and then she punched in the coordinates with absolutely no ceremony.

 

Pidge knew they finally would have their family reunited — that constant, gaping ache, the broken gaps in their team, would be healed.

 

“Jacomir and its neighbouring planets were just coming out of their Stone Age ten thousand years ago,” Coran informed them as the wormhole opened up. “That Lance and Keith managed to send us a message means the technology is there …”

 

“But why couldn’t they send it until now?” Shiro finished the thought.

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Hunk said, his eyes shining. “Maybe the tech isn’t all that advanced or something. What matters is that they’ve sent it — we can find them and bring them home.”

 

What Hunk didn’t say was: _what matters is that we know they’re alive._

 

Pidge hadn’t realized how sure she’d become that they were gone beyond saving until that moment. She had to keep herself focused on the wormhole, on emerging onto the other side and … Her father came around to stand next to her, his eyes bright with excitement on her behalf. Matt and Sam didn’t know Lance and Keith personally, but they knew enough — and Matt knew even more as a result of his connection to Blue.

 

“Red is going insane,” Shiro breathed out, his eyes wide. “Keith is here.”

 

“Blue’s kicking up a racket too,” Matt added. “But there’s a …”

 

“A shield,” Allura finished. She was frowning as the system came into view. “It’s not that powerful, although it is quite impressive that they can generate enough energy to cover that entire planet — but that isn’t Jacomir.”

 

“No, it’s designated 2657-AbbDn.” Coran stroked his mustache. “Unpopulated, ten thousand years ago.”

 

“Obviously not so anymore,” Sam said, studying the star charts and then the energy read-outs. “That shield is being powered from several stations outside the planet, in orbit. Interesting.”

 

“Red wants to go down there.” Shiro stared at the planet, his eyes narrowed. “But the recording — Lance mentioned _Jacomir_.”

 

“We know they’re alive,” Allura said firmly. “And that the Lions are sure they are down there, but Lance also mentioned _danger_. We need to be _sure_ we are not going to be putting them in jeopardy — I say we go to Jacomir, find out why the shield is there, and what preparations we need to make, if any, before we mount a rescue.”

 

Pidge instinctually wanted to say _no,_ to head down to this planet _immediately_. 

 

But she knew what it was like to land in a place where the technology was rudimentary — if they drew in a huge angry mob or caused some massive disturbance, and then Lance and Keith were caught up in it … _After they’d survived this long …_

 

“I agree with you,” Pidge began, “but let me take Green down anyway — we can cloak and at least do some scans … Maybe try and contact …”

 

At that moment, a beeping interrupted them. Coran brought up a screen. “Princess, Jacomir is hailing us.”

 

“Put them through!” Allura moved over to stand at his side, staring up at the display. Everybody shifted in closer.

 

They all sagged when it wasn’t Lance or Keith that appeared on screen, but an elderly alien with dark grey hair, six arms, and pale pink skin. She wore a uniform that appeared to be highly decorated. “Unknown craft, this is Grand General Liolan Kos of Jacomir. State your purpose.”

 

“We’re here to find two members of our crew,” Allura answered promptly. “We believe they crashed on the planet designation 2657-AbbDn. With your permission, we will retrieve them and be on our way.”

 

“You cannot land on 2657 — we do not bring down the shields. Ever. As such, your crew cannot have crashed there. I’m afraid their ship would have been destroyed upon contact.”

 

“Except that we can pass through without problem,” Coran murmured. “And therefore so could that Galra vessel.”

 

Allura nodded, her eyes going steely. “I’m afraid I’m must inform you that you are incorrect. We have received a message from them. We know they are alive and on this planet. Our technology is more advanced and therefore we could enter this shield without your aid. I ask merely as a show of good faith.”

 

_In other words_ , Pidge thought viciously, already not liking this person, _we’ll go down there whether you want us to or not, we’re just trying to be polite about it._

 

The Grand General gazed at Allura through dark green eyes. Her teeth were sharp as they flashed in a grimace. She appeared to be listening to someone they couldn’t see or hear, and then she spoke in a marginally less confrontational tone.

 

“If you wish to land on 2657-AbbDn, then come to our capitol city, Hyensen, to our military complex — we shall outfit you with all you need to survive, and provide you with information you will require to retrieve your comrades intact.”

 

She sent them coordinates and landing codes before ending the transmission.

 

“Wow, didn’t even ask our names or anything,” Hunk said, his arms crossed. “They seem like a really nice bunch of people. _Not_.”

 

“They are hiding something.” Allura looked at each of them in turn. “I say we find out what it is — I have a feeling it’s tied into Lance and Keith’s survival.”

 

“They put up the shield to keep something in,” Pidge’s father said slowly. “Or possibly to subdue a whole population? We need to know more. It would be valuable to tap whatever information they have … I know my Katie can get into anything.” He shot her an encouraging smile, and she grinned back.

 

“Perhaps we should consider warning them of the Galra,” Coran pointed out. “While the ship crashed here by accident, we shouldn’t rule out the Galra arriving at this system some time in the near future.”

 

“Naturally,” Allura agreed. “We’ll try for diplomacy, and if that doesn’t work, we go back to the original plan — I have no problems blowing a hole straight through that shield and landing in the middle of a bunch of local folk who might not even know that interplanetary travel is possible. Any objections?”

 

Shiro shook his head. “None whatsoever. If that had been your first plan, I still wouldn’t object.”

 

“Here, here,” chimed in Coran.

 

“If they can help us get Lance and Keith home safe without risking their lives in the process, sure,” Hunk said with a smile that had a hint of darkness to it. “If not, I say we leave ‘em to the Galra.”

 

Matt winced. “Blue isn’t happy with us, but she’s willing to wait.”

 

“Red’s currently being sat on by Black,” Shiro said, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “So, whatever you do, do it fast, Allura.”

 

“Let’s go now and make sure they know we aren’t playing,” Allura spoke even as she brought the Castle in for landing. “And then let’s find our family.”

 

Pidge gripped her brother’s hand tightly and leaned in close to her father. She knew that Lance and Keith would be back soon, and just like she had with her dad and her brother, Pidge would not rest, would not let anything stand in her way until they were here alongside them on this Castle bridge, dressed in red and blue, bickering, flirting, and defending the universe once again.

 

Nothing was going to stop her from seeing that vision coming true. Jacomir might be setting up for a fight, but it was one they had already lost. They just didn’t know it yet.

 

******

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so y’all might be pissed at me, and probably even more so if you’re aware of the way this series goes back and forth in chronology, meaning the next part will be in the _past_ … But I’m writing as much as I can, as fast as I can :) We’ve hit the climax now, so things are getting a little more complicated — and a lot angstier. 
> 
> But happier thoughts! The song Keith and Lance dance to in the club is [_It Won’t Kill Ya_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxljKS5rc7w), By The Chainsmokers Ft. Louane. Check it out with your headphones on to feel the bass that Lance and Keith were, _ahem_ , really _feeling_ there ;D
> 
> Thank you to **julietlovestory** for suggesting that Hunk would personally take charge of Lance’s lion while he’s gone! And another big thank you to **axel-grinatthegrimmestoftimes** for sending the song the Two McClains dance to my way! *hugs to both* Oh, and **Brame** gave me the idea of having Pidge think that perhaps Lance and Keith will need to do a lot of catch up when it comes to training (… Little does she know ;D) You are amazing, honey, thank you! 
> 
> You can yell at me here, or on [Tumblr](http://thisgirlhastales.tumblr.com/), but even if you wanna be mad, I’m still grateful that you read this :) Thank you very much to any one that stops by!


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